I think in certain situations in life it is okay to fucking freak out and lose your shit, but there’s never a hell of a lot of time to sit inside a shitty diaper, reveling in the stink. It doesn’t fucking help, and once you lay it out factually, it is much easier to contend with the larger meaning.

So it appears I was right about the dying thing. I mean, Jesus, could you imagine me saying that of everyone you’ve run across? Of COURSE you were always dying you might nod to yourself, but I had certain ways I existed that didn’t really acknowledge that too much. Yeah I might acknowledge it here but who the fuck wants to talk about that shit all the time or even infrequently in most situations? Not me. Not interesting really to too many people ultimately. I never acted like I was except in hysterical ways, to lighten the mood up or soften the blow but it appears the blood clot could be very related to the idea of the broken hip. Within 5 years 30% experience another clot. 30% die within the first 6 months and 37% within the first year. JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST, right?

Yeah, the thing is that is all that really has been expected of me out of this life and one I am quite good at–beating the odds, always. It is one thing I could be considered a bit heroic for, and really it’s been largely conscious though there have been points I wished for death, of course. So I have to be a part of the 63-70% who kick ass after the first year and the 70% who don’t see a clot in the 5 year time frame. I know you all say but you are young, and though that’s true, I definitely reside in a diseased body with some of the worst factors at play so let’s be realistic. The issue is this largely—eventually of COURSE I am going to run out of luck. It is not something I can swing forever though I am not ready to die at all.

What it does do is make me think super practically about all of it. Number one, should I work until the end for this company? Two, should I stay in this fucking country to die broke when some simple investments might get us out? Three, should we still plan shit really or should our plans be for our immediate gratification and he can blow it all later when I am long gone? Is it fair of me to expect anything out of anything anymore since clearly my luck is quite possibly running out? Should we move in December, should we plan to buy that wedding dress he wants to buy me? I want ten years, maybe 6 or 7 ultimately is the goal but I think I was taking a lot of my own time for granted and the kick in the pants I had been waiting for kinda hurts a lot.

Man it’s like I always say life happens when you’re making other plans, but you know what else does? Fucking death, that’s what.