Finding myself in Lost Angeles

I thought I was going to die.  I didn’t think or know if I would see today or if I would be seeing it from a hospital bed.  I was making plans for tying up loose ends and what I could do to help my family financially after I was gone.

I was also at the beginning of the worst and messiest break up of my life.  If I knew what the next 6 months would hold in store for me I probably would’ve welcomed the cancer with open arms.

Strangest part is that instead of being happy that I’m healthy, I’m kinda depressed.  There’s something exhausting about planning your own death and preparing mentally for what may be the fight of your life and then having nothing happen.  Kind of like when Nolan died and the death fucked me up but, more so than the death, the fact that I planned the next year of my life to be in New York with him…it made me not know what to do with myself.  I’ve spent the last year in a weird kind of limbo because I didn’t make any real plans or goals for myself since I didn’t think I’d be here.

So now it’s been a year and I feel like I should’ve moved on long ago but I haven’t really.  Not from the cancer and not from the girl.  For some reason I can’t seem to enjoy my life if I’m not miserable.  I’m miserable alone and I’m miserable with people.  Maybe that says more about me than anything else I could ever write.

Let’s hope and pray for a better year…and maybe a few good years after that.