perhaps I was ment to die during the coma, without saying goodbye, without changing my life. without questioning my truths. Perhaps I am still here by mistake. Perhaps I am only here because of kicking and screaming and refusing to go. If I had gone then I would have lived an exeplory life. One that would be envied. One that everyone would be able to praise at my funeral. Now I am a mess. I am only a shell of what I used to be. I am frightened and confused and unsure. if't not having what you want it is wanting what you have. I had that. true happiness. Now all I have is questions. As if my god has left me, as if he said, if you are going to stay here then you will learn the hard way. Perhaps I should have left when the leaving was good. Now noone could say anything about me other than that I was sick and it fucked up my life. I was strong and I lived through it but I was never the same, never as happy, never as carefree, never as friendly, never without my hidden demons that don't hide well at all. It is all I can do to wonder why I couldn't have left peacefully into a peaceful place. Why would I have been left here with nothing more than a broken will, and a scared, frightened, unforgivable mind? what purpose could it have? what need could there be of my innsolence and contempt for my great wealth of family, friends, and good fortune? why can I not be what I once was?
Monday, July 08, 2002