They say that when life gives you lemons you make lemonade. What if life gives you these lemons, and you make that lemonade. You taste it and it is fine. You give some to your friends and they also say its good. So you keep drinking. Halfway through the glass you start to get sick?
Whose fault is this?
What if you knew you would get sick? People with Rhuematism have bad reactions to high levels of citric acid. It makes your muscles cramp around the joints. And then you start to get stiff and achy. Moving in general becomes this great burden that you simply don’t want to deal with.
So what if I make lemonade, or even just juice up a dozen large, lovely lemons into a small jug and mix it in with my water for a few days. Even though I know what it is going to do to me?
It seems I am a masochist. I don’t know why, I must just like the pain. After a while I suppose I have just become accustomed to it and expect it as the norm.
All I want my freaking lemon juice. I wish someone would cut me a freaking break and let me freaking have my lemon juice. I don’t want to see the person next to me having their lemonade when I have to stick with tastless, nothingful water.
