Illness is not a comfortable companion.
I hate this chronic state of being less-than-whole... I hate my body for only wanting to sleep. I hate my hands for never wanting to grip anything firmly, for making my handwriting a mess, for not being able to get the top off of the milk carton in the morning. I hate my heart for beating sideways when I manage to crawl out of bed and stand in the shower, and I hate feeling my limbs tremble when I have to walk up a flight of stairs.
I should see a doctor, but maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just not trying enough. It makes me feel terrible for all the times I made a big deal out of nothing, because now I'm afraid that this is a Something.