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Shifted this post out of the Fuck Cancer thread into this one, cause it just seems to fit better here.
I'm (obviously) not the important factor in the current equation here with my wife & all but I gotta tell ya, I'm steadily not doing great with this as tomorrow approaches. My nerves are shot to the point of being downright queasy. The list of minutiae that I'm stressing over borders on the absurd (and maybe on the wrong side of that border). Easier than stressing over THE big shit I imagine.
But fuck me, I'm accustomed to a certain level of personal dysfunction. This is waaaaaay past that level. I ain't as young as I was in her first battle with it I guess, and I'm coping (a term I use loosely) with it very differently. I think that time I was so openly terrified about it all that it was less internalized to some extent. This time, I'm probably more outwardly calm but more fucked up inside.
I feel like a longtailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
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"I lit another cigarette. Unless I specifically inform you to the contrary, I am always lighting another cigarette." - from a novel by Martin Amis
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