I still haven't gone for the blood test to make sure I didn't get Hep B from my boyfriend. I'm a little freaked out actually.
I'm fairly positive I don't have it. But there's always that minute possibility that I could, and honestly, that scares me. Part of me.
But at the same time... A part of me hopes that I have it, that it makes me sick and kills me. That's the part that still thinks of killing myself. The part that doesn't want to keep spending all this time and energy on healing. The part that is so ultimately sick of everything in her life she doesn't give a shit whether she lives or dies. Hmmm.. started writing in third person.. alright!
It's the part that doesn't give a fuck that's winning.
I'll go tomorrow... or the day after, maybe next week...