I've become extremely redundant so it seems pointless to keep a journal, online or otherwise for now. I'm either just well enough to be extremely bitter or too sick to be anything but depressed to the point of tears. I don't want to write about either one or the other anymore and I'd be willing to bet you don't want to hear it. The simple fact is that some days are okay and some days aren't. There's no way of predicting which one I'll get until a few hours into being conscious. Either way I usually sleep most of the day away. I don't think about the future anymore. Until I find out whether or not there's some kind of treatment that can get me back to normal I'm afraid to have hope.
It's been a funny sort of life. Before this year it actually was pretty great despite all the wrong body feelings. Ask me about it sometime. There's a story or two worth telling. If all I have left are all my yesterdays I could have done a lot worse.
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4 comments:
If there's a story or two worth telling, maybe you can turn this into a memoir, rather than a journal. Who knows, it might just help you feel a little better. And your writing style is more than a little entertaining. :-)
Are you really going to make me get all concerned and nice and sincere on your ass? Because I'll totally do it. It'll be awkward and uncomfortable, but I'll go there. Anything to ensure this blog doesn't dry up. I'd been looking for a replacement for 1980s Garfield for years before I found this site and I'm not about to just let it die now. This is your first and only warning. Pathetically sincere email en route if you don't post a change of mind in the next few days.
I know it's pretty much terrorism, but I think circumstances justify it. You have been warned.
You're loved very much, hon. Don't ever forget that.
But you won't forget it, because we won't let you! ;-)
Oh, you've got plenty of days left in you yet. Why not come along for a spin to see the universe?
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