Time for Living.

i started crying today looking at a photograph of myself from when i was two or three years old. i feel like I’ve failed that child. that i’ve not reached anywhere near her full potential. instead of living the life she deserved i’m sitting here in my bomb site of a house, only half-enjoying my time off from the job i don’t like, while i try and think myself free of cancer. who’d have thought that that kid in the picture would end up with cancer. it breaks my heart. it broke my heart. and so i cried.

when i first found out i had cancer my brain went into overdrive, thinking of all the things i would do if i got better, all the changes to my life i’d make. but now i’m through treatment and i actually have a chance to make some of those changes, to do some of those things, i’m dragging my feet. and i realise that i haven’t already done all these things i want to do, not because i didn’t have the time or the money for them, but just because i’m either too afraid, or too lazy to do them. that makes me sad. i’ve already wasted half of my life and after the wake-up call of the century, i’m still here, preferring to sit in bed and daydream rather than do things, wasting the other half.

maybe i’m being too harsh on myself. maybe it’s an energy thing. i don’t know. it’s made me angry though. i’m disappointed in myself. after what i’ve been through the last six months i should have more about me than this.

maybe it’s time to really get on with my life.


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