I decided that I had to suck it up and get the hell out of this house. So tonight D and I went to a brewery in the city for dinner and drinks. It felt so good to be out with him doing our thing. On the way home, we stopped to see the planetarium, which was lit in pink, green, and teal, which are the MBC colors. I cried. I felt weirdly validated, like yes this is a real disease that is happening to me and it really fucking sucks and it’s important enough to be fucking recognized and discussed. Women are dying. I’m dying. Let’s spend some money on fixing that instead of talking about prevention all the damn time. Prevention doesn’t save lives. Research does.