I won't lie. This has probably been the worst three months of my life. It's been a rollercoaster from hell with nothing to ground me, nothing to hold onto to assure me that when it ended, it wouldn't be because I've died.
But, in desperate times, I am so eager to be happy that I can find solace in the slightest of things: a card written in cursive, a friend with a crush. And it doesn't hurt that the most wonderful woman in the world is dropping her life for a week to fly up from California and take care of me.
If we can all come out of this with all our limbs, limping, charred, bleeding from the lip with a swolen eye and a broken arm, clothes half-torn, if we can come out of it like that, beaten and buised, but breathing and generally intact, then we might actually make it.
But, in desperate times, I am so eager to be happy that I can find solace in the slightest of things: a card written in cursive, a friend with a crush. And it doesn't hurt that the most wonderful woman in the world is dropping her life for a week to fly up from California and take care of me.
If we can all come out of this with all our limbs, limping, charred, bleeding from the lip with a swolen eye and a broken arm, clothes half-torn, if we can come out of it like that, beaten and buised, but breathing and generally intact, then we might actually make it.