horrible pun...
A lisfranc injury - one you should actually only get if a horse stomps on you, not if you slide 6 feet, barefoot, in a rehearsal space during an acting class warm up at 9 in the morning - is a bitch. You wake up one day, it is a little stiff. you spend about 15 min in bed making sure it is okay to walk on, by stretches and exercises you have learned from over a year of Physical therapy, and then carry on with your day. That night you elevate it for a little while. I am supposed to ice it at night, or whenever it hurts badly, but I don't. Where am I to get ice on a train in the middle of London?? But some mornings, you forget to elevate it the night before (for like 2 weeks), and you do your morning's 15 minute check-if-I-am-good-to-walk test and all seems fine. Until, even through the fog and dreaminess of your sleepy brain, you put your foot on the ground and try to stand. And instantly you are awake, eyes bugging out of your head cause it is 7 am, people are sleeping so you cannot cry out, and your brain tells you in a frightened sad voice,
"I don't think you can make that long commute today. Yesterday you had no seat on either side of the train journeys and walked back to the house when you should have taken the bus."
Now I am in bed, with three elastic tension bands, an ice pack, a laptop, and a cheap top-up mobile to call into school to let them know I cannot come in. You feel guilty with an injury like this. You are needed or are desperately excited to do something vital for the day, but you have to take care of your injury instead. After a while, some people - who shall remain name-less on here but not face-less in my head - have thought I was milking my pain out so I could get out of doing things, or faking the injury for attention.
Trust me bitches, FUCK YOU. 
Today is the first in many weeks I have been physically halted in my tracks...fucking puns...
I will be fine, is my mantra.
It will get better, the other mantra.
I hope so, inner me. I do hope so.
Bye For Now!