Life has all of a sudden become a countdown. I'm just wondering, has it always been like this? Have I always been counting...for better days? For that one occasion? For forgiveness? Excitement? Special someone? Life is just a sequence of countdowns. This might be one of the most significant realizations of my being.
I've had 8 weeks to myself. Two damn months. But now only one week remains. Each week gave birth. And the same way deceased. Always looking forward to Friday. Fridays make me happy. Like I live a normal life as most of everyone looks forward to Fridays. Friends accompany me. Family visits. The rush slows down. But before you know it, another countdown begins.
There are small countdowns. And big ones. Eight more days with crutches. Four months till I leave to meet my other half.
I haven't written in a while. I don't know if I'm happy. I don't know if I'm sad. But I need to reflect. Reflecting what has passed, what is happening, and what will take place. Sometimes though, I feel like screaming. Really, really loud. However, I'm shy. Shy of my own skin. It's hard to let go. But I love it when I admit these truths. Truths I keep masked. I'm 20 years old and I'm so fucking confused, I feel like slapping a bitch. I don't seem to know any slappable bitches, and that really sucks. While on one hand, life is a countdown full of known events, on the other hand lies the surprises of a future I am clueless about. What am I going to study now that I've wasted a fucking year and a half taking useless sciences classes thinking I'd become a damn doctor? Will I ever be cured of this disease that has taken over my body; marks everywhere leaving me so, so weak in front of people...scared of their judgment? Am I going to get married; is there anyone so honest who will accept me entirely? Children...even though I am so drugged out; is there a chance for a healthy baby? Will I ever meet my escaped sister and once again have dinner together as a family? Life's a fucking delusional phenomenon. That's what it is. Some days I laugh so hard, and other days I cry like the baby who's not satisfied with milk, toys or her mother.
The thing about countdowns that really gets me is the fact that I'm so hopeful. I become so negative sometimes about living and wish deathful thoughts. Yet, when looking forward to something...I'm actually believing that I will wake up every morning until the awaited day. Hope is sneaky.
Now that I've freaked you all out, I feel better. And that's another crazy thing: venting. Better than any damn drug.