I don’t know what to do with myself.
I’m trying to keep busy. I have court this morning. It’s just now 8:30 am, and I’ve knocked several things off my to-do list. This afternoon, Jackson and I are going on a little mother/son date to the art museum. He has never been, and it has always been one of my favorite places to go when I need to think, but also be surrounded by beauty. I was around his age the first time I went, and I thought it was magical. I hope he loves it as much as I do.
Spending time with him and the fam is my top priority, like even more so than it was before. This is all going more quickly than I expected. There is still hope that this treatment will work and buy me more time, but it still won’t matter much in the end. The cancer will win. I will lose everything. I have to cherish it now.
I have to live now.
I’m so tired though. It would be so easy just to crawl into bed and stay there. To say fuck it to everything. Because what’s the point really? I’m fighting that urge. I’m using drugs and sheer strength of will to stay on my feet and keep going. Put a smile on my face and get out into the world. I cannot fall apart. I’ve always had to be the strong one, so I have practice. Don’t worry about me. I’m always fine.
I’m not scared of dying really. Everything will just end. It’s just the fear of missing out. The party will go on, but I am being asked to leave early. It doesn’t seem fair.
But then again, what the fuck is, right?