20...that's how many times I think about taking my life each and every day.  When I was 18-years old, I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia or Fibrositis, a condition that is essentially widespread muscle pain and tenderness throughout the entire body.  This leads to things such as constant fatigue, shitty sleep, garbage fucking memory, bipolar mood swings and overall, just being a really depressing mother fucker.  There is no guaranteed cure for this condition because of course there fucking isn't.  Why would there be?  It would be too fucking easy, if there was.  Life is never that easy.  All I can do is take medicine that's supposed to help "ease" the pain and make me feel "slightly less" fatigued, in addition to other shit that's supposed to help with other factors in my life such as sleep.  

I know you're probably already tired of hearing about my fucking problems but too bad, asshole.  I feel like venting so listen.  Even before I was diagnosed with Fibro-suckmyfuckingdickdisease, I was already dealing with GAD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Persistent Depressive Disorder.  In short, I was never really a happy kid to begin with and Fibro-I'mtiredofsayingtheword Disorder has made both of these even worse which is just...peachy.  

There are days where I refuse to leave my bed because attempting to do anything causes me pain.  Hell, even breathing hurts, sometimes.  Although, most days, I force myself to just deal with the pain and try to live my miserable ass life to its fullest.  I like working out in the morning but working out can be a real pain in the ass because, unlike normal people, I have to do a really sissy ass workout and progress at a snail's pace because if I progress too quickly or God forbid, use somewhat challenging resistance, my body is in absolute agony the next day.  After I survive my workout and stretching, I force myself to eat breakfast which is usually just cereal.  I hate eating and I don't do it much.  

After this, I take a shower and then begin my job.  I'm a behavior...behavior...something.  Fuck, I can never remember the name.  My bad.  There's that gold standard memory back at it, again.  Anyways, I essentially work with kiddos that have disorders such as Autism, ADHD, Down Syndrome and other ones like these.  To be honest, I really like my job.  These kids...are incredible, if you think about it.  God literally gave them all the shittiest hands possible and, yet, they still do their best...they can still...smile...which is something that I can barely do.  For some reason, they really like me which is probably the only reason I haven't been fired, yet.  I don't really talk much with my coworkers or anyone, for that matter, so they probably think I'm an asshole...I mean, I am...but still.  I really do love working with these kids and, most days, they're the only reason I bother waking up because if they can find a reason to keep pushing on, then what fucking excuse does my ass have?

At the moment, I currently live by myself.  I don't really talk to my family, anymore.  I was never close with my father because he headed out when I was younger without saying goodbye.  Most of my life, I was raised by my saint of a mother, who, always put up with my miserable and pathetic ass, every day.  I knew it took a toll on her and I feel bad about that, all the time.  She deserved a normal child that was as happy and kind as she was...instead, she was cursed with me.  My mother was super supportive after my Fibro...my diagnoses and she refused to just let me give up.  She's probably the only reason I even take my medicine because I probably wouldn't, otherwise.  I hate pills but I could tell that she was, desperately, holding onto the belief that I would get better.  I, genuinely, think she wouldn't be able to go on, if she lost that belief so, despite wanting to say fuck the pills, I listened to my really "helpful" doctors and began experimenting with a variety of medicine until I, finally, found some that weren't too terrible.  I, eventually, moved out of my mom's house because I refused to drag her down with me, after everything she's already done for me.  Every day, I call my mom to check up on her and tell her that my pain actually isn't that bad which is the biggest fucking lie, ever.  But, it puts her mind at ease which is the only thing that I care about.  

God, I hate myself.  I hate myself so fucking much.  Why does God even let a worthless and broken woman like me live?  I'm just taking up oxygen, at this point.  I lied.  20 times was too low of a number.

*

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*

Brrring...Brrring...Brrring!  

The annoying ass sound of my alarm clock woke me up from a, relatively, deep sleep and, at first, my eyes refused to open but then I realized it wasn't going to stop, no matter how much I wished it would.  I reached my arm out from the warmth of my covers and blankets and, somehow, by the grace of God, managed to turn off the damn alarm, before I lost my mind.  I buried my face in my pillow and let out a large sigh, questioning whether or not I even wanted to bother waking up, this morning.  I lifted my head from my pillow and, slowly, opened my hazel eyes, that had dark bags under them from a constant lack of sleep.  I sat up straight in my bed and I, immediately, noticed that my body was much colder than it usually was.  I looked down and I realized why this was the case.  I was naked.  Completely naked.  

"Tits out on a Monday morning, huh?" I muttered to myself, scratching my head in confusion.  "That's a first."  

I craned my neck and realized that there was a guy sleeping in my bed, naked, as well.  I buried my face in my hands in disappointment.  

"Fuck's sake," I mumbled to myself.  

All of the sudden, I felt a slight tenderness in the middle of my spine and some dull pain in my toes on my left foot.  

"Great, now I have to deal with sex pain all day.  Absolutely fucking wonderful."

I questioned how he could possibly sleep through the loud ass alarm, that could probably wake up the entire damn world.  

Like the asshole I was, I let out a, purposefully, loud yawn in the attempt to wake up the man sleeping next to me but this didn't faze him in the slightest.  I could feel the irritation building up inside of me.  I coughed even louder than I yawned and, still, the man was fast asleep, without a care in the world.  I could feel my right eye twitching with frustration.

"Jacob, wake the fuck up!" I yelled, causing the man to nearly jump out of his skin as he, finally, woke up.  

"W-What...oh, is it time to get up, already?" asked the man in confusion.  "Oh, that's right.  You have to be at work, early, right, Mayumi?  That's my bad."  

"Yeah, I already overslept a little so I can't exercise.  Thanks, a hell of a lot, ass-hat," I responded, bitterly. 

"I think you got plenty of exercise last night, already," Jacob said as he sat up straight.  

"How the fuck didn't the alarm wake you up?" I asked.  

Jacob thought for a second and smiled.

"Why would I want to be woken up by a stupid alarm clock, instead of the beautiful sound of your heavenly voice?"

"Eat a bag of dicks and die," I said as I made my way out of my bed and rolled my shoulders back, feeling my spine pop three different times.  "It'd be nice if you could be gone by the time, I finish my shower.  I have to get ready for work."

"I'm starting to think you don't like my company."

"I don't like anybody's company," I replied.

"Then why did you invite me over, last night?" 

Jacob made a good point and when I got a good look at him, I had to admit that he wasn't bad looking, by any means.  He had short, dark brown hair, was in relatively good shape and had a nice complexion.  On top of that, he had a well-paying job as a professor of some subject I couldn't be bothered to remember.  And, lastly, he was nice to me for some reason.  

Instead of saying any of these things, I responded with, "You shouldn't even bother hanging out with someone like me.  Just go and fuck one of your younger and better-looking students, professor dick-wad."

"Shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Mayumi," Jacob said, not addressing the insults.  "You're one of the funniest girls I know.  You have an extremely kind heart, even though you don't show it.  You're beautiful, even though you'd never admit it.  And, most of all, you're probably the strongest person I know."  

The last comment made me chuckle to myself.

"Strong, huh?  Yeah, I feel real strong.  Just fuck off, Jacob."  

Before Jacob could say anything else, I made my way into my bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.  I leaned against my kitchen counter and looked into the mirror that was above it.  My long, black hair was a mess, most likely from the sex.  My face was quite bony because I'd been eating even less food than usual.  It perfectly matched the rest of my emaciated body that was only remotely toned because of the exercising I forced myself to do three times a week.  My abs were clearly visible but so was my ribcage, giving me a malnourished look rather than a ripped one.  To make matters worse, the lower part of my stomach and left forearm were covered with disgusting scabs, from picking.  These scabs were on top of past scarring from previous scabs which just proved how long I had been doing it.  What was the reason for my picking?  Was it due to my never-ending anxiety that I had to deal with on a day-to-day basis?  Was it to take my mind off the damn near unbearable pain that I was always in, every minute of every hour of every mother fucking day?  Was it because I enjoyed causing pain to the person, I resented most in this world, with the constant scarring being a reminder of how much of a fucking mistake my life was?  I had no fucking idea.  Maybe, it was a combination of all of these?  The more I looked in the mirror, the more I saw my mother, who was American.  My dad was Japanese, making me Japanese-American, but you could barely tell from my appearance.  On top of that, I hardly knew any Japanese.  I guess my father never had the chance to teach me any with the whole not being there for me when I was younger thing.  I opened my medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Duloxetine which was supposed to help ease some of my pain.  As I began trying to open the bottle, my hand popped like it usually did, and I could feel tears coming out of my eyes.  I placed the pill bottle on the bathroom counter, not even being able to open it because of my own physical weakness, as more tears rolled down my face. 

Can't even fuck without being in pain, I thought to myself, pathetically.  It's so...fucking...humiliating.  

*

*

*

I sat on my semi-soft recliner in my living room and began eating the, supposedly, healthy cereal that I usually ate.  Was it really healthy?  Fuck if I know.  Hopefully, it was.  My laptop was sitting on my lap since I would be needing it as soon as I slammed down my measly attempt at a breakfast.  I shoveled the food into my mouth as quickly as possible and then drank a large glass of water.  I drank the little bit of milk that was still in my cereal bowl and then, lazily, placed it on the couch, next to me.  

I reached over to the small table that was next to my recliner and took the manga, that I was currently reading, from it.  I flipped to the page where the bookmark was, took the bookmark out and stared at it for a moment, remembering how Jacob had bought me it when we first started seeing each other.  It was a bookmark of my favorite manga series.  Looking at the bookmark made me feel shitty about how harsh I was on him, earlier, but he was probably used to it by now.  The more we saw each other, the harder it became for me to admit that he didn't care about me, especially considering he was the only one, other than my mom, who'd ever boughten me anything, let alone something that I really liked and valued. 

You're a good guy, Jacob, I thought to myself, sadly.  You could do so much better, though.

I placed the bookmark on the arm of the recliner, hoping that I wouldn't end up knocking it off with my elbow like I usually would.  I started reading the manga and was able to get about 30 minutes of reading done, before I began feeling a slight tingling and pain in both of my hands.  5 more minutes after that, my forearms began to start tingling and then 5 more minutes after that, my neck began tingling.  As soon as the pain became too bothersome, I placed the bookmark back in my manga to keep the page so I'd remember it for tomorrow.

I can still remember when I could read 2-3 manga volumes a day, I recalled.  I miss it.  I really do.  Stupid fucking pain. 

I placed the book back on the table, next to the recliner, and opened up my laptop, pulling up the email that my work sent me about my new client that I was starting with, today.  The email contained the client's program book which consisted of all of the background information and the programs I would be running throughout my sessions with the client, in addition to parent goals.  I read through the background information, first, learning that the client's name was Makoto Lee, a Japanese-American girl with autism spectrum disorder.  She was 5 years old and seemed to be starting Kindergarten in 3 months.  I then switched my attention to some of the goals that the parents wanted me to work towards.  One of the goals was being able to sit in a chair, comfortably, and not only on the floor.  Some of the other goals were more motor skill based which seemed to be a problem area.  The last couple of goals were more focused on social skills which was always a tough one for these kiddos.  Most of them hated talking about as much as I did...just another way I related to them, I guess.  In the corner of my eye, I could see that I only had about an hour, before my first session of the day and I had already plugged her parent's address into my maps app and it had said that they lived 30 minutes away.  I figured it was about time I soaked my dishes, brushed my teeth and headed to the girl's house so that I wouldn't be late.  Despite still having an hour before my session with Makoto started, I could feel a tad bit of anxiety building up inside of me, regarding the new client which was an all too familiar feeling.