Holiday Season kinda sucks for me now. It hasn’t really sucked in the past, but now that I’m working during holidays again and I’m still pretty alone, it’s hard to go through. It’s harder still for other people to go through, like my divorced coworker who seemed to be in a permanent horrible mood the entire time.
I schedule my posts – so sorry, so this may say “this weekend” and mean last weekend. The message is important all the same. Writing from the weekend of August 26th.
A few months ago (and I’m still not really sure how this whole Mystery Illness is going to turn out), I admit it, I thought I was going to straight up die. I thought I was going to die slowly, in a hospital somewhere, with no diagnosis, probably alone in Los Angeles. I never really thought enough about dying alone to be afraid of it. It didn’t make much sense to me. Who cares? No one really knows what dying is like anyway – what’s the difference if you’re with someone or alone? Feeling deep inside that you may be dying brings about certain truths
I’m really scared to write this, but I think it’s important.