Sissy Boy (ManxBoyxBoy) ⎰⛑⎰

30. єχραтιαтισи

A S H T O N

~I am yours, and I don't mind that you claim me. I know that there's nothing separating me from you, and that's all that holds me together sometimes. The claim you have on me gives me hope.~

When monday came around I was still bothered by my head. Blake had been worried all weekend, but his hands were tied. He couldn't magically make me better. It has to be driving him crazy, though, because it's something that isn't in his control. 

Blake strives on control. 

When he doesn't have control, he gets frustrated and it makes him anxious. I try to do everything to ease the worries when he can't control something, especially my head. It's out of both of our control, and it's equally driving me crazy. I don't want to be sick anymore. I want to be better. 

I want to go back before I found out about my head, before I knew how severe it really is. Every passing day I get a little bit more anxious because I know what's wrong. 

The more severe the headache, the more my heart races in my chest. The constant fear was driving me crazy. I'd never worried this much in my life. I was looking at losing more than just a few memories. I'm looking at, if I'm not careful, my life. 

Up to this point, my life hadn't been too special. I'd done well in school. I had a high GPA, but I sacrificed a social life for it. I had little to no friends, and there was a lot less to live for. It was something, and I certainly didn't want to die. I knew though, that then, there wasn't anyone who'd have been too worried over it. Now, I don't want to even process the fact that this is life-threatening. 

I love my life here. I love being with Blake. I have never been this happy before in my life and I don't... I'm not ready to lose this. It's only been a little while here. It's not enough for me to be ready to die. 

I sighed deeply and threw an arm over my face, the pain behind my skull excruciating. This was probably the most excruciating that it'd ever been. I could feel it aching away, like a bruise from when I'd fallen off my bike when I was little. 

Blake had been here with me all day. I'd called into school this morning, telling them about my health issue. They told me to stay out as long as was needed, and they'd help me catch up when I was back to normal. 

He'd only recently crawled out of bed to go make me some soup a little while ago. I missed him as soon as he'd left. I had bit my lip and watched him go, though. I knew eventually he'd be back because he was bringing me something to put on my stomach. I hadn't been able to eat in a couple of days, at least not much more than soup broth and a piece of toast.

He'd tried to feed me real food, but I'd just gotten sick. He'd decided after that to feed me broth and toast, something light so that it wouldn't make me sick. I appreciated it a lot because I didn't feel good. I didn't want my head to hurt even worse because I got sick. 

I don't know what it is about throwing up, but your head hurts worse. You feel empty, but yet you feel like you have a stomach full, still. 

I groaned softly, rolling over onto my side. I wasn't looking forward to the food. I hated that I felt dread slinking up and down my spine at the thought of food. It wasn't a lot of food either. It was just because I'd been sick so much since I'd been getting these damned headaches that food makes my stomach churn in fear. I force myself to eat everything that Blake cooks, but lately most of what I ate came back up within a couple hours of eating it. It seems like the headaches just keep getting worse, and I can't stand it.