Chapter 1: Rough Draft. The Exchange.

I have decided to write a story about two men who participate in a new experiment to help cure chronic pain and illnesses. This is chapter 1, draft 1. Please any feedback would be amazing!!! Tell me what you think so far.


The Exchange:

Chapter 1: The Swap


“Don’t worry about the wires, we only need to use them temporarily in order to synch your nerves for the swap.”

The Dr looked him over, making sure that each wire was perfectly placed. There were hundreds of connections, and Cole was beginning to wonder if the experience was going to be worth the money. He reminded himself that for the next week he was required to do nothing at all every day, minus bathe and eat. He could binge watch all the shows he’s been too busy to catch up on, and even pig out on the foods he never has time to cook for himself. He was going on a week long vacation, and making a significant amount of money for it. Far more than his paid leave of absence! “Yeah. It’s worth it.”, he thought to himself

The Dr could tell that though Cole seemed at ease, that the second participant seemed anxious, and was sweating enough to loosen the wire’s suction  cups. “I think it’ll be ok, Jonah. Aren’t you excited to feel normal again?”

Jonah shifted in his chair, trying hard not to pull anything off his skin. He smiled at the Dr, and gave a weak thumbs up. He didn’t even know if he could speak, his mouth was so dry from anxiety.

Jonah is what we call chronically ill. He’s been unable to work full or part time in years. He was diagnosed with multiple autoimmune diseases that cause a great deal of daily pain, and endless exhaustion. He hadn’t lived a normal day in over 5 years. Jonah had been seeking any form of relief, willing to travel thousands of miles to work with Drs who were willing to try to treat him. He had been completely unsuccessful… Until now.

The nurses double checked all of the settings on the machinery, and made sure that each suction cup was perfectly placed, and sensing nerve activity. For the nerve functionality swap, both men were to be put under anesthesia until the swap was complete. This is the first time the Dr had performed this experiment on humans, though it had proved very successful on all his other test subjects. If this experiment was successful, they would be one step closer to curing all pain diseases, and ending a far too common drug addiction in pain patients. If he was successful, he would save millions of lives. He would save the world. But no pressure, right?


It’s Not You… It’s Me.

Today I’m feeling a lot. I can’t express the emotions because I’m not even sure what they are. It’s a sense of loss, a sense of self pity, and frustrations.

I don’t know why I try to date. I don’t know why I’ve been so willing to put myself out there and tell the world that I’m ready for love. I don’t know why I accept being told over and over again that my illnesses are the problem. That if it weren’t for being sick, I would be so wonderful. That I’m sexy, passionate, strong, and so smart! But this body of mine… this body that’s decided to give into itself, and attack itself, is the issue. Is this the truth, or such an easy out when I’m unwanted?

I’m having the hardest time today dealing with my issues because for the first time in awhile, I actually got my feelings hurt. I was real with someone up front, completely honest about everything, and I felt a connection. I felt something in me awaken, and it felt so good. It was very short lived, because just 7 days later this human gave me one of my very firsts. A first I never even considered would happen to me. I was turned down for a first kiss.

Even after he expressed many times that he wanted to. That he is interested in me. That he likes me on more than one level. That perhaps this awakened sense of belonging was mutual. After holding hands, and flirting again and again, all night, he said no. I asked him to kiss me… he said no, and left.

I’m sitting here, sick and in my worst situation I’ve ever been in, needing the affection and comfort of someone I’ve connected with, instead trying to hold back a strange sense of loss of something that wasn’t mine to begin with. Trying to grasp my silliness for falling for a false sense of common ground, and wondering if my desperation for human contact has blurred my vision of reality. That instead of protecting myself, I’ve actually put myself in a situation destined to hurt me.

I’m not sure how long this feeling will linger, or how much it will hurt in the end, but I know that right now my heart hurts more than my body. That I’m fighting back emotions. That I’m fighting off another ding to my self esteem, and trying to keep my head up. Reminding myself that there are people out there who would look past my disabilities and see me for who I am. But today it feels like I would have to beg for the much needed attention. I can’t bring myself to do that.

My heart hurts. My head hurts. My foot hurts. Hell, my entire body hurts. But most of all, my pride hurts. My hope hurts. My mind hurts. And my eyes hurt from the overwhelming urge to cry and let these feelings out. Instead I continue to choke back tears, because it feels so weak and pathetic to cry today. To cry over a man. To cry over hurt feelings. Like a child…

I meant to have direction in this blog post, but it’s turned into a ramblings of thoughts. I needed to get these feelings out, and tell someone how much I’m actually hurting. I can’t bring myself to admit it to the world, so I’ll admit it to wordpress.

I’m hurt. I’m sad. In trying to keep my head up, however it seems there is no end to the suffering and loneliness I feel.

I have a very bleak vision of my future, being forever single or settling for someone who doesn’t appreciate me just so I don’t have to be alone anymore. I love my freedom, but I miss companionship. I don’t know if I’ll ever have it. I’m broken, I’m damaged, and in so many eyes, I have nothing to offer. My personality, my love, and my SELF is not enough for the mentality of the throw away world we live in today.

But I’m sure each and every man that crosses my path knows that is not him. It’s me. I am bent, I am broken, I am not worth the effort. It’s not you… its me. Even though I have no choice but to live in this body, and you have the choice to judge me for it. Do you even realize you’re doing that?

I give up.

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