If I were to be honest:

  • Sometimes (a lot of times) I pretend to be happy so other people don’t worry about me.
  • Cancer is hard on relationships. Even the best of them. Really, really f*&!ing hard. To the point of not sure if they will survive hard. In the beginning it’s the great unifier, but I have to believe that it’s the great divider for many more.
  • Being sick can suck your will to live. I don’t throw that around lightly. One of my most vivid and still haunting memories is a girl that killed herself in my high school. I saw her out with her family on Easter Sunday, the day before she shot herself in the mouth. I didn’t say hello. I was at that age that although I went to a teensy tinsy high school where everyone knew everyone, I was embarrassed or I don’t know what the hell, but I didn’t say hi to her. Even though my family was sitting like 3 tables over and it was obvious we knew each other. It is one of my greatest regrets. And I wouldn’t ever do that. EVER. Because I know depression goes away and I’ll be happy again. Because I would never want to hurt my family or friends like that. But you think about it. And it seems sometimes a lot more than normal. It’s a heavy burden. And it’s a completely asshole selfish thought to let yourself even think that way. But it happens. It’s not fair. And sometimes I wallow in it.
  • I know people are tired of me being this way. They act like they aren’t, but I know they are.
  • I don’t even feel like a girl sometimes. I have no hair, I can’t wear eye makeup, I don’t exercise as much as I should because of how I feel meaning I often feel like a fat slob, I don’t wear pretty bras, just sports bras because they don’t poke at me, there is nothing sexual about me.
  • I am having a pity party type of day. Month may be more accurate. And I don’t know how to make it stop.

That’s just if I were to be honest though.



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