Glandular fever. Glandular fever. Glandular...

It sounds... too real, after the mystery and the supernatural way of thinking about CFS. I now know what's wrong with me. And it's a weakness of my immune system. It's not something other-worldly that I can deal with. It's my weakness.

I didn't cause it, no. I found out that you did that. (Bitch! You've put me through hell!)

And I don't know how to deal with this. I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep going. And it's stupid I know. There's no point, no reasoning, no fucking stupid little excuse I can come out with. Because I think this is another one of the things that I'm going to have to keep bottled up and never let out.

Because I know how to do that and I know how to deal with things that I do that with. The list of things that I keep inside has grown far past my grandfather now, to encompass most other people in my life.

But I can deal with that. I have to.

...Don't I?