Trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe I'm not meant to travel and have grand adventures at foreign exotic places. My friends say, maybe this is how it's supposed to be after all. This is happening for a reason.

See that's the phrase that's pissing me off. I'm 'not meant' to. NOT MEANT TO.

Anybody who knows me knows how important travelling is to me. Being in new places. The whole back packing scene. New people. New food. That deep pitted heavy sensation you get in your stomach when you're excited about something.The first time you set foot outside of an airport looking for signs of a Metro train station. Anybody who knows me knows how I crave these things.

Being told that I'M NOT MEANT TO have these things is not acceptable.

Every IBS site I've read says that about 60% of patients with IBS suffers from anxiety and depression. They withdraw themselves from social activities etc. due to the fear of an attack. And let me just say right now for those of you who think IBS is just a simple stomach ache and people who complain are just pussies; IBS's pain is like being stepped on 400 times on the stomach. Every breath you take gives a sharp pain on your chest. Every movement you make causes pain. It's not just on one localized site too. Sometimes it's on the left flank, then it goes to the epigastric then the next day it's on the right flank. And if you're lucky the pain comes at night at 2 am on the whole length of your left side of the back with a raging throbbing headavhe, leaving you crying into your pillow in a foetal position thinking this is how you're going to die.

You may think I'm being to goddamn emotional about this, and you know what, I probably am. Imagine being told you can't do the things you want to do because hey, simply, you're not meant to do these things, so get over it.


Fuck it, fuck IBS and fuck you, I'm not going to let this stop me from going places.