Note: My 2011 self wrote this. It is selectively preserved for historical interest and amusement from a lot of similar, chronologically nearby posts. That’s all. I am not as angsty any more.
So. I was hoping I could blog for once without predictably explaining something about how this doesn’t mean anything about future posts or activity or anything, but apparently I can’t get started without a lame start like this.
Eight months have passed since I started my fight with leukemia. Yes it has been a rough eight months, full of unpredictable pain, nausea, diet restrictions, and freakishly-sized needles.
I’ve been waiting for I don’t know how long for everything to go back to “normal”, but now that I look back I can no longer imagine the idea. The world, outside, still seems to be rushing at its insane pace towards maximum chaos. Economic and natural crises still seem to be always around the corner. But in here, in the hospital ward, or at home, it’s a really different feeling. I feel completely disconnected. Nothing changes; every day is waiting, waiting, waiting for the future, for a better moment or feeling or achievement.
For what, really?