aksiokersa

It's my journal (if you already read the intro about IC, check out today's thoughts underneath the row of pretty pretty stars)

I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.

The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.

No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
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The Mood:

Won't you please let me go
These words lie inside they hurt me so
And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what I want to do
I'm not the kind that needs to tell you
Just what you want me to

I saw you this morning
I thought that you might like to know
I received your message in full a few days ago
I understood every word that it said
And now that I've actually heard it
You're going to regret

And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what you want me to
You're not the kind that needs to tell me
About the birds and the bees

Do you find this happens all the time
Crucial point one day becomes a crime
And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you
Just what I want to do
I'm not the kind that needs to tell you (oooo!)

I've lost you (echoes)
I've lost you (again with the echos*)
oohoo ooo (repeats)
(oo!)
New Order
*Yeah, I spelled it right both times. Nerds.