Desperatly happy

I'm desperatly unhappy with my current happiness.

I don't deserve any of the things I have, or that I enjoy.

I love my baby, my pets, and my house. I just can't take care of them. I'm not strong enough. I'm so weak, so tired, so damn sick.

So I should "Take Better Care of Myself."

Ok.

I don't have the will to argue.

I'm typing this with my elbows in my lap, because I can't actually hold the wieght of my hands.

It's not like what I have is actually a disease or something. It's just Fibromyalgia, or Celiac Disease, or something that's not understood, respected, or curable.

I'm going to bed.