Hollywood Hot Babe

yeah, that’s me

I can’t leave the house. For real, for real.

My left eye is so gross. It’s swollen and leaks things and in the morning my eye is crusted shut and I have to put a hot washcloth on my face so I can melt the crusted goo and open my eye. It hurts. My eye hurts. I hate everything.

People look at me with this look of incredible pity. It looks like I’ve either been punched in the face (since there’s a bit of bruising under my eyelid) or I’ve been crying for six hours. My eyeball itself is fine. I can see (except when the pus makes my vision blurry), and my eyeball isn’t red. But it hurts to blink and close my eye and open my eye. It hurts so much to lean forward — there is a lot of pressure on my eye and it feels like my eyeball might pop out. It hurts to brush against my eyelid or clean it or wash my face or just live.

It hurts to live.

My nose keeps bleeding, as well. The weather here is dry and now the inside of my nose is just a series of scabs and dry patches, and every once in a while my nose starts bleeding like I’ve got a movie-style brain tumor. I lack that certain glamour needed to look like the beautiful girl struck down in the prime of her life.

I keep biting the inside of my lip for some reason.

I was so much prettier when I smoked. My nose ran from the cigarettes, keeping my nose scab-free. My eyes weren’t irritated by anything, since they had to be used to cigarette smoke wafting into them all day long. My mouth wasn’t cut up because I ate less and smoked more. Do you see why I need cigarettes again?

I can’t even go to the doctor because I got turned down for health insurance. They basically said that birth control costs too much per month. When I insinuated that it was sexual discrimination to turn me down for the cost of birth control, they pointed out that in the past year I went to the doctor for allergies. I explained that the weather in Austin is different than here in California, but the basic argument that they had was, “When you’re sick you go to the doctor, so you’ll cost more money than you’re going to be worth.”

So, I learned another important lesson: lie. Lie all the time and then you can get what you want. If I just hadn’t told the health insurance people that I used to smoke, am on the Pill and have allergies, then I’d be insured right now and I could go to the doctor and get drops for my scary, leaky, goo eye.

My eye’s all swollen and leaking, I’m getting random nosebleeds and my mouth hurts too much to eat. I look like such the Hollywood “And then times were tough for the starlet” girl. All gross and bleeding, looking like a coked-up trash girl who has an abusive rockstar boyfriend. Suddenly I’m noticing all of the pretty girls at the coffee shop because right now I look so gross and scary. I’m hideous.

It started with a twitching in my eye last Sunday, and then the outer corner of my lower eyelid hurt and then it felt better and now it’s just all completely swollen and leaking.

The Internet is only making things worse. After a quick Google search, it looks like I either have a form of a stye that has to have surgery to be treated, or I’ve got a disorder that will stay with me my entire life, or I’m in serious need of plastic surgery. The Internet makes me feel even uglier. I can convince myself that I have all of these things.


Time for another hot compress.

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