I think it’s crazy that If I let it all go and stop forcing my hand, my heart starts to beat much too fast.
And I can only speculate that at the moment it begins to grow weak, I won’t even notice the very last beat.

I wish I had not thrown away ten years of the life I live today; I could have any disease, be dying the next time you run into me….

I chose to go slowly, forced my own hand until the final moments… and then told everybody that ever loved me, “wait, I changed my mind; actually I don’t want to die.” Should I really be proud of that? Do people wake up from anesthesia and think to themselves, “I’m so proud of myself…”?
No, they thank God that they’re alive. Because they can’t fucking change their minds. It’s not for them to decide.

I had the luxury of winning this fight, the cancer I have is all in my mind and I must have been a lunatic.  NO one with cancer actually asks to be sick…They beg God everyday to stay alive. They appreciate every sleepless night and welcome every morning they wake up. Their friends shave their heads and wait for them to grow fucking sick….and they don’t have a choice. But God, how much they want to be alive.

So I’m ashamed of myself. Just thought you should know. Ashamed that I thought I was somehow owed the luxury of reckless abandon- that I believed I was above all of this…that I could ever take it for granted. That’s disgusting and I wasted so much of my fucking time…of their fucking time. Every moment I take for granted is really only borrowed or stolen from people who don’t have the luxury of choosing.

People with diseases die every day, a fatal car crash, a freak- accident, a fucking lightning bolt….and their loved ones don’t have to stand around at their funeral wondering why, why, why he didn’t want to be alive. Because, he did and it just wasn’t fair. It baffles me. It can be as cunning as it wants to be. I only get one shot and then it’s all over. How quickly it can all be over.

I don’t want to run anymore

I can always be found

If you need me to be here

I don’t need fucking pills

They belong to somebody else

Someone with cancer

Or a fucking life wish

Someone who actually, truly needs them

Someone who would never ask for this shit

It makes me sick



I won’t run anymore

There’s no pill on earth

I want to score

It’s not about winning (or losing) my seat

I promise I won’t miss another beat

I won’t let this burn a hole through me

They don’t even fucking guarantee

That people like me will be ok

Once you work up the stability

To get up and leave

To go, go, go

They give you percentages and frightening odds

Tell you to wake up each day and try

Try, try, and try

To feel fucking grateful to be alive

What if I am already?

…I am so grateful it makes me cry

Every time I think of someone dying

Who didn’t ask for this

The way I asked for it

What if trying is what I WAS doing?

What if NOW I’m finally living?

What if it truly IS that simple?

I don’t want to miss this heart beat

Or the last one that takes the life out me

I want to live my life like I like to be alive

Because I do.

I love it. Like I love you.

2 thoughts on “50/50

  1. You are brave! Keep on drinking from the cup of life. I hope your pain has lessened. I loved your spider journals, Every time a doctor has prescribed me mood elevators or downers, I realize the depression and sadness I feel are for (mostly) real humans or human dilemmas and invariably I’ve opted to “feel life-unadulterated”. I still don’t know if I’m right.


    • I can totally relate to that. Sometimes I still think, “man, this would be so much easier if I could take something… ” It’s almost intuitive, but it’s always counterproductive in the end. Thanks for your words of encouragement and for stopping by:)



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