Take Your Hand and Place It In My Pocket

My dad told my mom that the only time anything is wrong with me is after I look it up on the internet. Apparently, there’s no real issue with my health. I’m just lazy. I’m just the laziest 26-year old he knows. I refuse to do anything anymore because I’m just so lazy.

He doesn’t care that my blood work says otherwise. He doesn’t care about MRI scans or CT scans either. He thinks that I’m just the picture of perfect health. Maybe I’m a hypochondriac, but I’m otherwise healthy. I just want attention.

I’m sick of him doing this. I’m sick of him going around denying that I’m actually sick. He gets to be sick. He has an actual problem. I don’t get to be sick. I’m just faking. Somehow I must trick the thermometer to go up to 100F every time I come in from doing anything. My skin turns bright white for no apparent reason, other than some psychiatric issue. This theory of my sickness issues has persisted for years. He’s denied illnesses even when I’ve had surgery or other procedures done. He could be looking at me in a coffin and say that I was faking. He has serious issues when it comes to whether or not I actually have something wrong.

Published by

Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.

One thought on “Take Your Hand and Place It In My Pocket”

  1. I am sorry that your Dad is not being there for you. With your multiple health problems, you need your family there for moral support. Hopefully, he straightens up and starts being there for you.
    Confession 1 was the last thing I wrote

Comments are closed.