It broke my heart.
These past few weeks have just been so hellacious... Work, school, dropping IZ, a screw-up in my meds, the threat of losing my job... He says this will pass. He always says that. Right now I can't see past this moment. The fear that rises in my throat each morning when I remember what's going on. The panic, like a giant fist crushing my chest, when I walk into work and wonder what kind of harassment I'll suffer or if I'll even have a job by the day's end. The knowledge that I'm sick and I will be sick until I finally die. The fear of dying. The fear of what comes next.
I want to go back to smiling. I want to go back to knowing that (barring this speed bump) my life is more wonderful than I could have imagined it being five, ten, fifteen years ago.
"Maybe you should start writing again," he said.
Maybe I should. Maybe I am. And maybe I should go do some homework before I have to pack up and head back to school. The days are long, but somehow not long enough...
