The Stillroom

I’m going to miss this back forty. I know I won’t be seeing it next year.

My weight is starting to drop faster than I’d like to see it even though I have it to lose. When diagnosed with a terminal illness and there is still life within, a lot of life gets lost. I can’t have what I had. It’s all doctors and treatments and just feeling downhearted constantly because I know what’s coming. I’m tired. Tired, sad, scared, achy, mentally exhausted, yeah, poor me. I see people every week going through the same shit as me. We are ghosts of ourselves. Just going through the motions, trying to hang on to what?