This Is What Life Is…

…Sadness, that I never enjoyed what I had, because I never knew that it/they/fucking everything would be taken away so suddenly, so arbitrarily: Health, cognition, feeling pain free for even just a moment. Being able to run, be tough, play foosball, eat a piece of fudge, write a fucking article, read a fucking book, write a song to ease my pain and work out the riffs on my beloved guitar. Be with my children, which is the hardest of all.

If I would have known that each time was the last (say, playing bouncy ball in the street, singing on a stage, not having pain) I would have savored it, I  would have soaked up the joy and the sheer tactile sensations and stored them away so that I could have tried to remember them.

On the other hand, knowing me, I might have just wallowed at the fact that they were being taken away, who knows.

It’s just that so many things have been taken away, and I keep trying to stay hopeful, but hope keeps slipping away. The other shoe keeps on dropping, only now they’re boots, and I am so tired of trying to dodge them.