Esther Tela Free speaks

You woke me up

All these things that I have done

Its hard to look back and see the progress when you are in the midst of a change.

April 29, 2016 I was taken to the Adventist hospital in the midst of liver, kidney and respiratory failure. They couldn’t take me which I find really ironic when I pass their billboards that tout how wonderful their ER is. Instead I ended up at Kaiser in Clackamas county. I should have stayed in Portland, and I will regret the fact that I had no say in my treatment or where I was taken and that once again my ex-husaband made a decision that will have repurcussions to my dying day.

That isn’t the focus of this post though. The focus of this post is to remind myself how far I’ve come from then. See, when I was taken into the hospital I weighed 335 pounds. All my life I had been called fat. People would yell ‘fat ass’ out the window of their car when I would walk down the street.. On the phish (that band from vermont that some of you might know) newsgroup rec.music.phish (newsgroups were the precursor to Facebook groups I suppose). But the difference is there was absolutely no moderation what-so-ever. It was the wild wild west of communities and I was a pretty well – known poster as I had either a job where I could be online all day, or I wasn’t working so I spent almost all day, every day online posting about Phish. I somehow gained a troll (i would find out later that it was a large group of people acting as one signle troll) who would write stories about me eating people. And make fun of the fact that my health had deteriorated into me needing a wheelchair just to go to a live music concert. The bullying continued into my 30s until I eventually had to leave that internet community that I had thought was accepting of all people but would actually be one of the most creul and unforgiving communities I’ve ever encountered on the internet and I’ve been part of an online community or two, or three for over 22 years now.

I digress.

Now, I’m 100 lbs down. Yup. I’m outing my weight on the internet. I weigh 235 pounds. And I wear a size 12 in some clothes and in others I wear a 3x depending on the manufacturer of the item. How on earth is anyone supposed to feel normal wearing such an array of different sizes? Epecially in a society that places so much value on that damn number. How is anyone who is self-conscious in any way supposed to live with themselves and their weight when our clothing manufacturers won’t even give us a regular size. Now guys clothing is measured in inches. You know the waist size. You know the length and that is the way it is no matter who makes the clothes. Talk about a punch to the face. To me it seems as just another way to control us.

I digress again.

I decided a few months ago to let someone move in as a roommate. I let him stay for free for a few months. I wanted to see how we got along. I wanted to open myself up to a new person. Well that fell apart the other day. I no longer felt safe with him in the house and had to run. I had to walk down the block, call for a Lyft and go pick up my car that had been impounded when I suffered multiple anxiety attacks and memory issues relating to the PTSD and anxiety that I can now trace back to my early childhood. That brings me to mom. A mom Who decided to tell me that because i pushed away this roommate, that meant I had no friends. Never mind the 15 messages on messenger that I recieved when I let people know I had to create a whole new fb profile. It’s amazing what the internet does to people. For people like me, it can destroy them with just one sentence. For others, like zev for one, or Bee for another, and even darryl yes, I know you are all behind things. I know there are others involved too, but that won’t last forever. Karma is a real thing. A very. real. thing. And you’d better get ready to face YOUR demons because I’m facing mine right now, every single day when I wake up and I hurt. When I sit for 15 minutes and can barely move after that 15 minutes because the stiffness is so bad.

I have digressed again.

Honestly I guess I’ve lost focus on what this entry was supposed to be about. I guess it’s about freedom. The freedom to be who I want without my mom telling me that I have no friends. When I disappeared a few weeks ago due to some circumstances almost completely out of my own control, I was found with one shoe and sock and a bare foot on the corner of Division Street. The police found me, put me in an AMR ambulance (mind you this is the 2nd or 3rd time these wonderful folks have, oh wait, it may even be the 4th time that they have come to my rescue when it’s been a life-threatening situation). See, I suffer from, wait again, I don’t like to use the word suffer. I have anxiety (and PTSD) and Im despartaley trying to control it without relying on medications.

There we go. It’s out now. I have PTSD from an alcoholic father and a controlling mother who wants nothing but to dangle my strings in life like the puppets in a kids theater. It’s from the bullying that began in 3rd grade that continues to this day when I went to the Coldplay concert and I realized that SOMEHOW, some of these people KNEW that popcorn was a trigger. Somehow they KNEW the things that triggered me to have a panic attack. I may never know how that was the case. I will just continue to look down at the love button that some of you may have recieved if you were at that Concert. From what I have been able to glean, not everyone got one of those buttons.

She told me this morning, after I had called her to let her know I was safe. She told me I hard pushed away the only friends I had. Because I didn’t let this man, a person I did NOT feel comfortable with, stay living in my home. She didn’t believe me that I had been able to procure my car from the impound lot. She just sounded pissed. After being missing for a few days, maybe even a week total, Then reappearing. Then disappearing again, she was pissed. WTF mom. What. Is. Wrong. With. You. You didn’t teach me how to handle my emotions. You came from the school of push those emotions deep deep inside and dont let anyone see you cry. Not ever. There’s no crying in baseball afterall.

Needless to say, this posting has jumped all over the place. I started it because I’m going to try and lose another 50 lbs and today I downloaded an app to keep track of my calories. That’s how I lost the first 100 lbs. I found out how many calories I burn at the weight I’m at and then I ate less. I didn’t even excersize. I am doing bother now. It’s different now though because I have a goal. I want to tour with a band. I want to find a band that will take me on to help them in some way. Whether it’s to drive the van, or even just make some home cooked food while at the hotel. It may be a pipe dream, but it’s my dream. And i’m going to keep fighting to make that dream come true.

I started watching a youtube red documentary about Lindsay Sterling tonight. The dancing violinist. I had never heard of her before, well at least not that I can remember and she is someone that I admire greatly. She is fighting a food issue just as much as I am fighting one. (She’s also facing the death of her father which is something I dealt with at the age of 21) I have a tendency to eat my feelings. When I’m sad, I want pizza. When I’m happy, I want pizza. I would eat pizza for every meal of the day if I could. And trust me, I have before, for months at a time. That was how I got up to 335 pounds. I was stuck in a loveless marriage that had died right around the day before our wedding in 2004. Don’t get me wrong. We had grand times. But I had followed in my mother’s footsteps and found myself in an abusive relationship. I can’t go in depth into that part of my life until the divorce is final. I will get into that one day though. So keep an eye out on the blog. I finally got out of the marriage a few months ago and the moment I recieved that restraining order my life began down a path that I am happy to say is probably some of the best times I’ve ever had. I have hope that the next few days will cement a future. A future that I have been dreaming of. Some of that will require hard work. I used to walk almost every night. But I slacked off. Gained some weight and today I put myself back on that path to getting healthier. I really do love green beans! I really do love tofu. OMG a tofu scramble? Yes please! Scrambled cheesy eggs? Yup. Throw me that protein. I’ll eat it.

“it’s time” as the announcer before an MMA fight would say. It’s time for me to start the rest of my life. And I hope that includes you” I may have even prayed that it would include you.

Oh I forgot to mention one thing. I exist in pain. Chronic pain. It hits when I least expect it. No one’s ever been able to tell my why. I just have come to accept it. After 14+ years of controlling it with opiates, I have moved forward to handling it with alternative treatments. Yoga. A TENS unit. Just plain ole fashioned grit and determination. So if you know who I am, and see me walking down the street on your neighborhood (sometimes its a button that says I heart nerds, sometimes its a button with a smiley face and a bleeding head wound and sometimes it’s a “love” button) remember that what you do, in those moments when you pass a stranger can sometimes last a lifetime. That person who yelled ‘fat ass’ out the window at me in Birmingham, Michigan has permanently damaged me and I’m betting he is proud of that. I have faith though that Karma will bring everything into balance.

Change. The only thing that’s constant in life and in reality and I’m in the midst of a big one. Watch out world. This wily fox is on the hunt, on the prowl and is ready to take on the world. And I will gosh darnit. I will.

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October 10, 2017 Posted by | abuse, anxiety, Changes, Dreams, Internship, Memories, MOF, mom, pain, phish, reality, RMP, sickness | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Another plug in the wrench was my insurance situation. If you’ve never been chronically ill, you may not understand the hoops we have to jump through in order to get care. The doctor I was seeing worked out of a certain health care system. That system did not give me options such as physical therapy, or seeing any sort of psychologist. Due to the lack of hospital beds the day I almost died, , the hospital transferred me to another hospital in a completely different health system. Because I wasn’t a member of this hospitals system, I had to find an equipment company that would rent me the equipment. Somehow, due to the diligence of my team at kp, I spent the last 15 or so minutes of my hospital stay with a rep from one of two in the city that I could use. The hubby and I were relieved to have me rolled out of the hospital with rather proper breathing machine for me to sleep healthily. I remember sitting in the passenger seat, at dusk, with the window rolled partway down, feeling the breeze on my face and watching the pinkish colored sunset sky to the left of me. We drove steadily up the highway and soon I was home.

I knew, after we got front row, reserved balcony seats for my new favorite band, that I would have to walk up a flight of stairs. The year previous, I had seen ghost at that same venue. It is one of the only hazy memories I have of 2015. I started walking up that flight of stairs and it was so hard and tiring that I was forced to sit between the two sets of stairs. 

Things were bad in 2016. I mean really bad. I was completely losing my marbles. You start to wonder whats going on. I’m not talking about crazy like thinking someone’s in your computer crazy though. I’m talking about how I couldn’t draw a clock. K would say, draw three o’clock and I couldn’t.

I now had a goal to help me recover from this experience. I had four months to get myself standing, and walking enough to park a few blocks away and stand in line, amped of course, up those two flights of stairs that would take me to my coveted seat for the best medicine there is. Live music.

The first few weeks home weren’t easy. My memory was fucked. I would get a phone call and forget what was said. This was frustrating to my poor hubby. He had nursed me from almost the entire time we’ve been together. I was able to some what nurse him when he suffered a diagnosis of congestive heart failure and a subsequent cardiac arrest a few months later but I had not been able to sustain that for very long.

The years I have had to use the wheelchair, prior to my hospitalization, are a mix of frustration and the desire to get my musical medicine without experiencing the major stress that comes with traveling and using a medical assistance device. Unfortunately, at a major music venue in the Pacific Northwest, I experienced one of the worst experiences at a live concert. And I’ve seen one band almost a hundred times and not just in one state. I got to the hotel in the city near the venue and made it to the campground in the rv we had rented. When we arrived at the campground the campground guy did not flag us into the handicapped camping section. He put us up into a top section on a decline and the paths were made of gravel. To someone in a wheelchair that is like saying we don’t give a shit that you are here. That was the first indication that this trip and concert just might not be the experience I was used to having. The day dawned bright, warm and cloudless and I looked forward to having a wonderful time and tried to have a positive attitude. As we got ready to head to the show is when I noticed the gravel and realized I would have to walk. In the condition I was in, that was a hard thing to do. And I was fighting the urge to just crawl up and die. I was already embarrassed enough to be using a wheelchair but I was also fighting a confidence issue as I had gained significant weight as a side affect from the steroids. I got down the hill and waited at the bus stop for the handicapped bus the venue provided which I am thankful for. I was loaded into the bus when it arrived and it was my very first time in a handicapped bus.

I would like to say that all of the other handicapped people that I have met in my concert travels have been wonderful human beings.

As the lift rose up, I rolled into what I thought was the area to be. Now my memory is fuzzy here, either he didn’t strap me in, or I said I was ok, I’m not sure. But what happened next, I won’t forget. The bus driver got into his seat. He pulled the break and the bus slowly rumbled to life and out the gravel road. At the stop sign, there was a small hill and as he stopped, my wheelchair violently rolled forward and smashed into either the seat or another wheelchair in front of me. I untangled myself and rolled back into my spot. As I did that I realized that my wheelchair had been damaged. Wheelchairs are expensive and mine hadn’t been covered winsurance and knowing I would have to order a new one, mine was a special light weight one,I would have to fork over the cash out of pocket too. I compartmentalised the issue and tried to look forward to three hours of music and bliss that came along with live music. We were drive to the back gate entrance and since I was very early and the only wheelchair, I figured I’d be ok, but what I didn’t know at the time, is at this time, they did not have a section for wheelchairs. I asked the security guard about this. He smiled widely, took ahold of my chair and wheeled me right out into the general admission area in front of the stage. The live concerts I usually go to, have rabid fans that wait hours so they can hang on the rail, right in front of the band. I knew this because I used to be just one of those persons. I spent many hours waiting in line at venues across the country. Madison Square Garden in NYC, The Mothership in Hampton, Va just to name two of my favorite experiences. When I was wheeled out to the GA section, there were already rows of fans claiming their spot for the show. I was a pretty meek person back then, and didn’t have the wheelchair experience yet to know I was not in a good spot to enjoy this concert. I had such a horrible time, and felt it was so wrong that they didn’t have a handicapped section at GA concerts that I contacted the state where the venue was located and put forth in motion a lawsuit. I wimped out about it, but I found out years later, when I returned again to give them another shot, they had a wheelchair section and I’ve since enjoyed a few shows there.

Before I got sick, my hubby, who is a music extraordinaire both in knowledge and in dj abilities would try to play different music for me, and I found myself stuck in a pattern with not just my health issues but also in my musical tastes. When I returned home, I found myself drawn to much heavier music than I had in a long time. I also found a new respect for many legends I had just sort of turned my snotty-at-the-time nose up at. Now, I was blown away by the intelligent and soulful lyrics of musicians from all around the globe. Germany, Sweden, and even some of my own fair city’s known bands….

April 7, 2017 Posted by | ankylosing spondylitis, anxiety, death, fibromyalgia, hubby, Memories, MOF, music, pain, phish, reality, sickness, The Gorge | Leave a comment


I spent 7 days in the hospital. 3 of them in the ICU. I had a tube down my throat and was given narcan to combat the opiate withdrawal I had to go through to put me on the road to recovery. As the fourth day came around. I was somewhat used to the early morning intrusions to both my skin and my sleep. Late morning rolled around and the physical therapist came by. She wanted me to walk down the hall. I was on oxygen thanks to the respiratory failure caused by what I guess is the liver failing to clean out the opiates on my system so  depressed my breathing. I expected to have no problem walking but as the woman pulled the portable oxygen tank around to my right side, I swung my legs around and slowly put weight on them. It was a shocking surprise to find myself very weak and scared at the same time. I stood up, wobbled a bit, and gathered myself to make that first walk. Before this hospital stay, I walked from my bed, to the chair, and to the bathroom and that’s it for the day. I couldn’t draw those clocks. I was fucked for the rest of my life I had thought. But getting clear if those opiates, I knew immediately that I had a second chance (or is this the second?). I walked about halfway down the hallway, turned around and walked as strongly as I could and when back at my room, I collapsed in the bed in relief. This was going to be hard.

The day passed and so did another one. Mentally I was recovering faster thaen physically. I had been misdiagnosed with an auto immune disease and treated with steroids, nsaids and opiate pain medications.

I woke up on that last day in the hospital knowing that it would be my last day. I had been on furosemide to help flush out my kidneys after they failed and was finally off of them. They are not a fun drug. They make you urinate numerous times an hour, but is necessary if certain organs aren’t working correctly. My last dose had been the day before and my last test would be to do the stairs. I’ll admit it now. I was scared to death to attempt them. I was not only weak from the 6 days in the hospital, which causes you to lose a large percentage of your muscles, but I was recovering from years of complete inactivity due to weight gain, depression and anxiety. Along with having to try and walk and climb stairs, I had to work out a plan to get durable medical equipment from a company somewhere in the city,

April 5, 2017 Posted by | anxiety, death, fibromyalgia, Memories, Misdiagnosis, MOF, pain, sickness | , , , | Leave a comment

Ugh…stomach sick

for the second time, in the past two weeks, im home sick as a dog. I hate this kind of sick too. I can barely enjoy doing anything because the stomach is so upset. I’m sorry for the non posts but I’ll be back up and running sooner then later and I’ll post more…till then, watch this:

UFO The Greatest Story Ever Denied -Pt. 2

March 21, 2007 Posted by | sickness | Leave a comment

Pain levels low major tom

So I don’t know if it’s the return to work, the exercise I’m getting through the physical therapy for my knee or the letting go of a lot of hatred and anger but I’m having lower pain levels. The new drugs are helping with the anxiety and scariness that I sometimes feel and I’ve been sleeping like a baby. I have my dreams back too. I know that I am having them, but I’m not remembering them. I’m going to try this weekend to wake up and immediately post what I remember here in the esther blog because this one is pretty incog (well hopefully, but if you know who I am, this is the blog I bitch about my A.S and my health just so you know). I want my dreams back. I don’t even know if I said that to my doctor or just said it in my head. I do know I posted it on the blop.

Goin to hell in a bucket baby, but at least I’m enjoyin the ride.

The blop has been a haven for me. I hope that more people stick around. It seems to be getting busier to me. It seems the perfect size. If you take a few days off it’s slow enough that if you respond to posts from yesterday, the people who wrote them sign on and notice that someone is responding. I think it’s the best size, even though I have this feeling that something’s going to happen and it’s going to get noticed. I hope that snigs is doing well health wise. You are in my prayers snigs!

Can’t think of a place more perfect, or a person as perfect as you.

The hubby is at work today and I get the entire day off to do whatever I want. I’ve decided to take care of the housework first. Emptied the cat boxes, cleaned the bathroom. Swept the kitchen and bathroom floor, took care of some dishes and lit some incense. Oh and of course put on jam on. I swear that sattellite radio is a gift from heaven.

At least I’m enjoyin the riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to talk about that night. What I heard on NPR. What seemed to be the future. Going around all those roads. Seeing people I recognize trying to hurt me. It was as if a dream became reality instead of it being a dream within reality that isn’t reality. I seriously feel that if I could write it out into a script. It would make a great movie.

I can’t remember what inspired me to get in the car. The hubby fell asleep and I just said I’m going to micky d’s and all i have to do is eat a few chicken nuggets with the honey mustard sauce and some fries. All I had to eat was 4 nuggets and 5 fries. It was that specific. Everything seemed to be set up as if it were meant to be a path. All I did was look straight ahead, drove the speed limit and listened to NPR. I would say something out loud and I would receive an answer on NPR and the answer always had choices. I had to make a choice and even then, if I were afraid to make the choice, I had help making the choice. It wasn’t anyone’s voice. It was an inner monologue of my own. Kinda like on Scrub’s. I would vocalize my thoughts. As I was eating the chicken mcnuggets I was forgetting to dip them in the honey mustard and so on NPR, a show began that showcased all of the wonderful sauces that were inspired by Asia. And how it’s best to have them with other kinds of foods because that is how they taste best. You don’t pile honey mustard onto a french fry, you dip it in and get just a little bit and then together, the two tastes combine and its nummmy. That is pretty much what I was doing for the first maybe 20 minutes of the drive up to the mountain. I was noticing lots of white lights everywhere, as if it where still christmas time even though new years eve had passed. I knew it was January and after the visit to micky d’s and hearing from the two kids that a comet was in the sky, I had made the decision to just drive up to mt hood. I had done this once before in 1999. I hopped in sunshine, the vw that i used to co-own with a friend and camped up on the mountain all by myself in a tent. I knew i had to do this camping experiment on my own but to be doing something simliar almost 8 years later, it didn’t seem like such a strange thing to me, while it freaked everyone around me out. I guess that’s because I expect people to know what’s going on in my head but forget that they dont know unless I tell them.

As I drove up and up the mountain, which takes about 45 minutes to get to, I have absolutely no idea where I went. NPR pretty much directed me and as I hit a certain elevation, the NPR channell fuzzed out and I was listening to what sounded like NPR in the future. I was hearing things that weren’t happening in the reality down the mountain and I thought to myself, I must be getting a glimpse of the future. That everything will be all right if we just keep talking to each other. That there was a new religious person in the government. Someone who would speak for all religions. I can’t remember what they called this person but it helped bring together the entire world into peace because each religion had it’s own speaker. I wish I could remember more but it was an interview and I was in so much awe of what I was hearing that it was all I could do to keep driving the 15 mile an hour curves as I drove up and up the mountain. There wasn’t any snow for some strange reason. We must have had a short warm spell that kept the snow off of the higher elevations that would usually require chains for driving. After the food show about the honey mustard and asian sauces, and the NPR interview with the religion ambassador from the United States, I was closer and closer to the top of the mountain. At one point I went the wrong way and was thinking and saying “help” I don’t know which way to go. A white car or pick up truck would show up and would go one way and I would follow and they would then disappear. Some of the darker elements of the world were also involved in this dream reality. The darker color cars would try and block me from going places. Not once did the police seem to see me as acting any different and the people in the lighter color cars were always smiling and waving and so I knew I wasn’t encroaching into or onto anyone else’s space or bubble as I like to call it. Its not a coincidence that the sattellite radio just finished playing a song from a phish show that I would call ‘my show’ while I was writing the above words. There is inspiration and muse right there in music.

Thirty days in the hole. Newcastle Brown can sure smack you down.

As I reached the top, well, what felt like the top of wherever it was I could go, I came to a fork in the road. I could either go up and to the right, or down and to the left. I figured I’d take the higher road and so I veered to the right. There was a gate, but the gate was open and I knew most people in this part of the world and area are pretty much nice, especially if the gate is open. I also didn’t have any other way to go and so I needed to turn around anyways and figured this would be the best place. The funniest thing was that I really needed to go to the bathroom and I just happened to light up a porta potty as I was swingin tela into a circle to head back down the mountain. I thought I had already started to make my turn but for some reason whenI saw the girl and boy that was in the garage, they started to walk towards me and I realized I hadn’t started to turn, I had actually driven towards them. They came to me and I tried to explain that I was lost and needed to go to the bathroom, but I couldn’t get out the words. The two people looked really familiar. So familiar that I felt as though I was in some sort of trance. I said “I don’t know why I’m here.”

The girl with the straight blond yellow hair, she looked about 19 or 20 asked me what my name was. I thought that was a little odd but hey, I figured wtf, why not. “Marnie”. I had spent the evening playing on the internet and had been using my nickname instead of my fullname and so I figured I’d just tell her my name was marn. She said how do you pronounce it? I said ‘Mar nee” She seemed to be happy at the response and smiled. “You can go back now” she said. I kinda jumped, startled at a stranger saying something like that to a stranger. The boy that was with her was also very familiar looking. He looked about 19 or 20 and had black hair very simliar to the hubby’s hair. It had been like seeing myself about 20 years younger living life with the hubby. Building a house up on the top of Mt Hood. I didn’t know if I was in the future, the present or the past because of the NPR strangeness. They were not reporting on things that were happening in the reality that I had been in at the bottom of the mountain and so I felt like the things I saw once I reached that point up at the top of the mountain as in a different time. I had a strange feeling in my stomach that it was sometime far in the future and I was seeing a parrallell universe that was existing just right down the road from me. I had been reading a lot of physics on the internet. I had spent hours watching physics professors teach me that they have figured out how the universe works. According to them, there is another universe just like this one, but its only a fraction of the smallest thing you can imagine away from us. Its the negative universe. And sometimes we can fall into that and bad things start to happen. Music starts to sound off key. Things go bad. Theres war, famine, disease, destruction, everywhere and no matter where we are in our world we can accidentally slip into that parallel universe. I wish that a website would appear telling me that what I’m writing makes sense but I have to go google to make that happen so brb

here ya go:

Everything you’re about to read here seems impossible and insane, beyond science fiction. Yet it’s all true.

Scientists now believe there may really be a parallel universe – in fact, there may be an infinite number of parallel universes, and we just happen to live in one of them. These other universes contain space, time and strange forms of exotic matter. Some of them may even contain you, in a slightly different form. Astonishingly, scientists believe that these parallel universes exist less than one millimetre away from us. In fact, our gravity is just a weak signal leaking out of another universe into ours.”

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/horizon/2001/paralleluni.shtml

whats interesting is the date : 14 February 2002

March 9, 2007 Posted by | ankylosing spondylitis, anxiety, e-friends, grateful dead, kneecap, mt hood, music, NPR, pain, physics, positivity, reality, sickness | Leave a comment

Sickness

deifnitely has two meanings..

it can mean the most meanest sickest sickness jamming of the band named moe.

Or it can be a subluxating kneecap aka patellar. Guess there was some sort of tear, but not sure about that one. Still waiting for the email with the xray. I can’t believe I’m finally getiing a cool xray. Kinda sick I know but when you are fighting a disease, and you grab proof of if, a picture, you really want to own a copy of one. I have a feeling itll arrive sooner then later.

It’s nice to be off the crutches for the day. Now I iknow that it’s hyperextention that is causing it I need to go google what to do for that. I get the weekend for rest and then its back to healing the knee again. I’m so thankful of my life right now that I can honestly say I’m happy even with an injury like this one.

Damn that jam was just sickness

February 26, 2007 Posted by | ankylosing spondylitis, kneecap, moe., mpe/, music, patella, sickness | Leave a comment