As a pancreas, I often feel that my organism…well…ignores me. He doesn’t surprise me with flowers anymore, or call me just to say hello, or anything! I get no love from him! It really does hurt, too, deep down inside my pancreatic soul. I just want to feel appreciated.
I try to be a good pancreas. I work long hours, keep the endocrine system running just the way he likes it, and I always have freshly made digestive enzymes ready for him when he gets home.
But does he even acknowledge me? DOES HE EVEN KNOW WHERE I AM? I’M RIGHT HERE, SRR! BEHIND YOUR STOMACH! GIVE ME YOUR LOVE, DAMN YOU!!!!!! *Breaks down into uncontrollable sobbing*
*sniffles* Insensitive bastard.
You know what? You’re right. I should leave him! I should! But I don’t know…I feel like I’m rooted here, ensnared by some sort of…small intestine. It’s hard to explain, but I just don’t know if I can leave.
He USED to be good to me, he did! He had the cutest pet names for me. Sugar…sweetbread…Panky-wanky. I would just melt in his arms, give myself to him completely. We were in made for each other! But now? WE HAVEN’T MADE LOVE IN TWO YEARS. A pancreas has needs!
You’re right, it’s dead. It’s gone sour. I’m leaving. Let’s see how he gets along without me. You think HE can whip up some digestive enzymes himself? Ha! He’ll be ordering takeout for the rest of his life.
I’m glad we had this talk, you’re really good listeners. I feel better now. I think I can do it. I think I can leave.
This is the pancreas, signing out.
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