Mathew’s Journal
4-2-14
Sometimes I don’t know what I am writing about anymore. It seems like my pen is just moving across the page.
I know I feel guilty for my disease but I don’t know why. Maybe I have some indication as to why I perceive it to be my fault.
The stabbing pain in my abdomen keeps reappearing and disappearing.
And I feel like shouting at the top of my lungs which I was doing a couple of days ago in the DRC when Dr. Knight was trying to figure out what type of medicine to give me. She gripped my hand and told me it would be okay.
The next day there are many adjustments in my medicine.
I fall asleep and dream that I am hiding from a strange society that doesn’t want me.
I live in an old gray minivan and a tentative compatriot helps me fish (illegible) worms that look like IV lines out of my skin.
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