A tender touch, rustling my hair, a hug or kiss, an intimate conversation, all seem to be things of the past. Visitors are few. If I want contact with people, I have to initiate it. And truthfully, I am not in the mood to beg for anything!
Look folks. LBD is not contagious! It is not like the flu, hepatitis, or scabies. It is not a sexually transmitted disease. If I kiss you, you will not get it like mononucleosis. If we make love, you will not get LBD like the Clap!
It seems the things I want the most I get the least. This drives me deeper into depression ad isolationism. I am alone in a crowd of bodies that want to avoid me. I am ignored, avoided, and shunned by almost anyone that knows I have this disease.
My bed is my refuge. Sleep is my friend. The things that once entertained me now enrage me. No one knows or understands how I feel and their actions tell me they do not care and do not really want to know.
There are a couple of friends that are always there for me. But, they have their lives too and they live far away. Florida is a prison for me. LBD is the death sentence.