The one thing that keeps you going in life is the thought that it always gets better. But what if it doesn't get better? What if every day is just painful? What if you survive longer, but surviving is merely surviving? That's how it has felt the last two weeks. I mean, what's the point of living if you're not really living? That's why Hamlet wondered, "to be, or not to be?"
In the end the thought of what MIGHT happen is scarier and more painful than the thought of what IS happening. And that's why we keep going. I guess that's a bleak view of eternity. In reality, I should probably keep fighting because I'm looking forward to what good can come. But I'm just not there right now. I'm simply trying to avoid something worse.
I saw a fat lady the other day that was probably twenty years older than me. You could tell she was completely broken down. Her ankles were massive and scaly. Probably due to years of diabetes. I'm pretty sure I don't want to be that. But does it outway my desire to be content now? I don't know.
Right now, I'm having a hard time picturing a happy time in the future if being healthy means feeling like this forever. I hate it.
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