My body refuses to coorperate. I want it to act as if nothing has ever been wrong. But as much as I pretend it's not happening I always find myself back at the same horrible realisation that my body is so flawed and destroyed inside that I will never be like most people. I was told I look as pale as a ghost today. In fact that happens too frqeuntly for my liking. When I'm well I have no regard for the fact that if I pursue life with utter abandonment it will eventually catch up with me. At a later point I always find myself beaten down, in pain and listless. Nothing left to let me get through a normal day. Everything is an effort, sometimes to the point where I find myself unable to do without a midday rest to try and recuperate some energy to get through the rest of the day. It plays with my mind. I hate being sick and I hate having to compensate for it. Perhaps I falsely believe that if I pretend it's not happening then it will go away. It's cruel and I despise it.