Daily Beast Article

Hey guys! I wrote a piece on my "puffy face moment", inspired by Ashley Judd.

Please check it out here: http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/04/13/inspired-by-ashley-judd-my-own-puffy-face-saga.html

thanks for all the support!

xo
kb

east hollywood, 3 am

It’s almost three am in East Hollywood. I live on the border between East Hollywood and Los Feliz. It’s easier to say Los Feliz, it paints a better picture. Oh, I know that, they say. Do you go to that restaurant?

I usually say no. I live sort of simply; I live in my bedroom and I get out when I get out. This week I spent most of my hours sleeping. I would be awake and then I would drift back down to my bed. It’s complicated; I work from my bed because there’s nowhere else and then I fall asleep. This week’s been worse than most. The drugs won’t let me sleep at night (that is the first factor) and then I make up for the sleep during the day (second factor) and it all leads back to this: 3 am and reading things on the Internet.
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Real Talk by KPB

The wind is howling and I cannot sleep.

This morning, I woke caked in sweat and moaning out in pain. I was confused when things finally came into view; the sun was blaring through the curtains and I didn’t know where I was, but I knew I was not home.

My body speaks before I do.

I slept on and off most of the day because every moment I am awake is a song sung by the rhythm of this nasty, unwavering pain. I struggle through each second, and I pretend I am somewhere else but I am never anywhere else.

I’ve had back to back to back flare ups since February, or maybe it was October or maybe it was 2009. I can’t remember the last time my mouth wasn’t hurting me, or my knees weren’t aching.

I hang with certain people who believe that we are responsible for the negative energy that our bodies process into weakness and illness. I am not totally on board with this theory, but I started an inspirational journal on my computer just in case.

I write cheesy, needlepoint phrases that ultimately, I believe to be stupid. And it’s that black, unbelieving thought that some might say is the reason I cannot seem to get better.

And I can’t: the debts are accumulating in my body. I have not been to the doctor since February, when my health insurance expired. I thought it was coming back April 1st, but I have to wait another month. When I went in February, I was told I needed to undergo an insane battery of tests, and I have a list written down of things I must attend to, but it will wait until May.

You can get through another month, I wrote. You can do this, I wrote again. Every moment is worth living! I write these things over and over again.

But it’s not! It’s not!, I want to write. THIS MOMENT SUCKS, I want to say.

I don’t know how to try anymore, how to write more positive things on a blank Word document and fully embrace and believe them. I want to be earnest, and I want to be positive, and I want to believe that things are getting better...