In truth, I am tired. I am ill. I hurt. In truth, I have no choice. I am re-evaluating my life (damn I wish I was male). It doesn’t look very good.

I feel like I have achieved diddly-squat. Nothing. Zilch.

The medicine I’m taking is making me feel ill. I feel like throwing up, and I understand that this is how I will feel until the end of March. I will fe…