on a bad time

this pain is spread out across the movements that i make, as i shake from the hard edges of its existence, as i move my arms and feet in tandem, desperate to feel something else.

later i will punch the strong walls that built this castle i reside in, some 3,000 miles away from the comfort of my hospital, my NYU, where the doctors know what to do. where they recognize my face, and they smile, but not in a mean way.

i owe everyone money. i owe everyone something right now. i have bills to pay and things to do and promises i have meant to keep.

and all of that seems utterly meaningless right now, as i watch the seconds tick, as i tell you that i wish i was on east coast time, so that i would be closer to lightness that comes with evening sleep.

it's almost 3pm here in los angeles. the relentless sun fills my room. my black comforter is dotted with cat hair. i sip coffee from a straw. i make notes in my pad, and i sigh at the happiness of others. 

i am looking at a box of brownies, and longing for a taste. i try and stop, as the shock of touch delivers a roar i can only hear inside my head. 

it's like putting your ear to a conch shell and receiving soaring, wide-reaching pain instead of the ocean music. 

i wish i could make this pain away, the ones who love me say. i wish i could too.

last week the doctor said, looking at my swollen knees and face and blood work (just a little hairy), that it seemed like i was headed for a lupus flare.

A Bad Time.

i scoffed and said i felt fine, that it would be alright.

but now the cat plays with my bottle of prednisone at the bottom of the bed as i watch television and rewind because i have not paid attention. 

i'm a 9 on the pain scale. and i'm sweaty. and i'm tired. and the day seems endless, but i will wait for this time to pass, for the drugs to work, for the raw pain to end. 

i will wait and hope for that, because i believe that time will come.