Jan. 8th, 2012 12:15 pm
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It shouldn't even bother me anymore. I know too much about it to let it bother me.

But it still does.

The last time I was sick, about two years ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and sprinted to the bathroom to vomit. I was very careful to get it all in the toilet bowl. I was dehydrated, so I puked up basically pure acid, and my throat felt like the acid was eating through it. I gulped down a bottle of water, but it didn't help in the least.

I hadn't wanted to wake anyone up, but sobbing, scared and in intense pain, I ran to my mom's bedroom.

"Mom," I whispered, after shaking her awake, "I just threw up a lot and my throat burns. I think there's something wrong."

"Drink some water," she muttered.

"I did. It didn't work. I'm really scared."

"Go drink some more." And with that, she rolled over and went back to sleep.

My throat did get better, but it was still terrifying.

Last night, my little brother got sick. He began to make loud retching noises around 11. I yelled to run to the bathroom and wait there if he felt like throwing up--I didn't go to his room because finals is soon and I can't afford to get sick--but he just kept moaning and retching. And threw up all over the floor.

Mom cleaned it up.

Because I was half-asleep I'm not sure exactly what happened last night, but I do know that my brother kept my mom awake all night. He refused to vomit in the bathroom, and she cleaned everything up.

No one gives a damn if I'm sick.



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January 2013

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