100 Unfortunate Days Read Online Free

yourself. You want to kill yourself but you can’t because everyone else in the world is crazy, and who would be able to take care of all the things that you tend to so well. But you can still eat delicious things like sugar-dusted cookies and pink angel food cakes and coconut donuts and chocolate brownies. But you can’t even enjoy them because you are not supposed to have them because of your chronic disease. An autoimmune thing.
    Your body is eating itself from the inside. And you put on a little weight. No biggie. But a few months later you look in the mirror or see a picture of yourself and you look old and fat and disgusting. Your jeans don’t fit and your stomach is actually hanging over onto your pubic area. You can feel it when you sit down. You get depressed. And you don’t feel good either so you really don’t feel like going out. But the kitchen is pretty close. So eat.
    The worms you have love sugar.
    If you walk to Elizabeth, near the Bayway Circle, there is a brownstone type of house. It is surrounded by a chain-link fence and you can get in through the back, but you can only get there at night. There will be lots of people there but none that you know. You have to be there, so you go inside and it is hot. People are all around but they don’t notice you, all except for the red-faced man that you need to get away from. He will follow you, and you can’t let him catch you no matter how many stairwells there are in your house where he can be hiding.



Day 16
    Morgellon’s is a disease where living robot threads poke out through your skin. Although they can be red or black or green and look like thread, they can move independently and no one knows what they actually are. Your skin itches and hurts and you pull threads that are inches long from the places where they poke through while you scream because it hurts so badly.
    Lots of people in California get this disease, and doctors pretend it does not exist. I have this. Sometimes it pinches and then burns and stings like I am being bitten by ants. It’s not itchy like a mosquito bite—it’s sharp and it makes you scratch until you push so far into your skin with your nails that you bleed. The place that itches has a bump and it is kind of green if you pull the skin tight. Sometimes ice helps—sometimes it doesn’t. Benadryl helps if you take enough to make you sleep. One day the threads will poke through my corneas and I will be blind because I will pull my brain out through my eye sockets.

Day 17
    A man with silver-blue eyes asked me if I needed a ride back to my car while I was getting coffee in town. He was thin and tall and beautiful. He smelled like ice. He was drinking water and he told me that he never eats. I did need a ride.

Day 18
    Things that piss me off:
    Having to go to the bathroom in the middle of a good conversation.
    Gaining weight.
    Dieting.
    When anyone is smarter than I am.
    When someone is saying something negative or mean and they do that fake laugh.
    Lyme disease.
    When white people act like they are black and black people pretend they are white.
    Suburbia.
    Cliques.
    People who look younger than their age because I look much older than I am.
    I am not including the obvious like, war, poverty, and our government.
    When the radio DJ says a Led Zeppelin song is next on the radio and it’s something from In Through the Out Door.
    Yeast infections.
    American Idol.
    When I am talking and someone is going “uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh” the whole fucking time.
    People who watch TV while you talk to them.
    Cooking and cleaning.
    People who talk about how much money they have.
    Being sick.
    Planes. Flying.



Day 19
    When my son was in third grade he threw a ping pong ball into a fishbowl and won the tiniest fish at the fair. He named him Little. We had him in the smallest fishbowl we could buy. He was an easy pet to care for. One pinch of food a day and change the water once every two weeks. He got a bit bigger and we got a