So a few days ago, I was sitting next to Anne while she was going through yet another chemo treatment, and, for some reason, I was more insightful (and emo) than usual. I had my laptop out with the intent to work but found myself having a difficult time concentrating. So, I sent out the following tweet:
I meant every word of it. The randomness and harshness of Life can truly be terrifying if you think about it too long. I mean, we only have so long on this earth, you know? And none of us knows when our time is up. It’s something I think about often, and is my one genuine fear: Death.
No, I’m not a Christian or any other religion. I have no idea why we’re here, where we’re going when we die, or where we came from. I am comfortably ignorant if that makes any sense. This is why Death gets to me sometimes. Fear of the unknown. Fear of not existing. One of my favorite expressions by Andrew Smith is, “People fear what they don’t understand and hate what they can’t conquer.” I can honestly say I both Fear and Hate Death. Logically I understand that all things must die, and I understand the benefits and logistics of this happening, but tell my heart that. Tell my heart that the woman I’m sitting next to might not be here tomorrow if she loses this fight, that she will simply not exist anymore.
And then tell me how that will be a good thing.
I mean, Anne’s not only one of my best friends, but I’ve known the girl for a little over 18 years. We’ve been through a lot together—more than I will ever publicly admit. Initially, when we found out she had breast cancer (about three months ago), I didn’t want to share the news with anyone, even though she said she didn’t mind. I relaxed a little and talked to my Patreon members about it, and it felt good. Refreshing, if that makes any sense.
Maybe I need to open up and talk about things more often. I dunno. That’s not something I usually do; in fact, when walloped by Life, I tend to clam up and get ridiculously analytical, almost machine-like in my focus to beat whatever it is that’s going against me. I call it Terminator mode. It’s served me well through the years. Except with something like this, where there’s abso-fucking-lutely nothing I can do. That is humbling as hell to someone like me, let me tell you…
Anyway, I know this is a bit overly introspective entry, but I am treating this like an actual diary, not a blog – hence the name. So deal with it, motherfuckers.
Oh yeah, and: I love you.
All of you.
And thank you for reading and being a part of my little digital world. 🥰
💡 The More You Know 💡
This year, an estimated 42,170 women will die from breast cancer in the U.S.
Although rare, men get breast cancer too. In 2020, an estimated 2,620 men will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year in the U.S., and approximately 520 will die.
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