they call me mr. glass

my stomach always hurts, as do my hands and my head. why do i have to be the sickly child in the family? i'm like beth from little women...except i can't play the piano...nor am i sweet...or living in the civil war era waiting for marmie to bring home more scarlet fever germs from the poor ghetto trash down the road. i love that book. i think i'll re-read it.