It's not always anymore.
Mar. 25th, 2009 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellenmillionI drove home feeling sorry for myself.
It hurt to push the gas pedal, to turn my head, to buckle the belt - all those little things that are involved in driving from one place to another. White pain, hot and sharp-edged, flaring down my hips and up my spine, ebbing away and burning again if I dared to shift or relax in the slightest.
It's not fair, I thought to myself. It's not fair to hurt like this, to wince at bumps, to ache for something as basic as turning the steering wheel. It's been a long time since I hurt like this.
Then it hit me: it's been a LONG time since I hurt like this.
This used to be normal. This was every day. This was always.
It's not always anymore.
And I felt better.
It hurt to push the gas pedal, to turn my head, to buckle the belt - all those little things that are involved in driving from one place to another. White pain, hot and sharp-edged, flaring down my hips and up my spine, ebbing away and burning again if I dared to shift or relax in the slightest.
It's not fair, I thought to myself. It's not fair to hurt like this, to wince at bumps, to ache for something as basic as turning the steering wheel. It's been a long time since I hurt like this.
Then it hit me: it's been a LONG time since I hurt like this.
This used to be normal. This was every day. This was always.
It's not always anymore.
And I felt better.
