I had my stomach surgery yesterday morning, and still haven't slept.  It's 6am.

I spoke with Mr. Black today, who said the other day that he would seem me after my surgery, which I might add was sad enough to attend without anyone else to come along, get me there or take me home.

He called me and said he wanted to go to the mall and buy new jeans after he was done at work, and then he would come over.  Hours and Hours passed.  I still have heard nothing.  I am in bed still, and it hurts to get up so bad, it took me everything I had to get up and go pee. 

Mr. Childish was also to pay me a visit, a "get well soon" hug perhaps.  Neither called back.  I called Mr Childish and blocked the caller ID just in case.  When he heard my voice saying hello he hung up.  I could hear Mr Black in the background.

I feel completely alone.

Mr Fantastic ignored my calls and text messages tonight too, so I have been here, in pain, emotional and physical pain, alone.

I wish I wouldn't have woken up now.
Too late, I am awake, and not capable of sleep, as it hurts so bad inside my flesh, and inside my heart.  Cancer wasn't the cruel force of today's cosmic joke on me.  My heart was.  Scratch that.  Love played this joke on me. 

I'm so stupid. 
I'm so stupid.

I decorated my room again before surgery, added more fur and re-did the canopy for my bed, added a new desk, and framed some pictures of Mr. Black and hung them up here and there.  Now I can't stand long enough to remove them, however it kills me to see them.  My family didn't come either. 

I watched the entire 4th season of Weeds tonight.
1 sitting.

I wish I had weed now.
And someone to cuddle with.
OR:
That I didn't wake up.  Why can't I have even one of those fucking requests?
Maybe I didn't wake up, and I am in hell...
Maybe.

Feels like hell.

If it smells like shit, looks like shit, and tastes like shit...
It's shit.