Love and death have been two topics I have contemplated a lot in the past year. On both I have been honestly re-examining my inner workings all through this year.
Writing, rewriting, laboring, meditating. Endless cups of coffee.
And then today, the best friend of "someone to me" was diagnosed with a terminal stage 4. She wants to dance with him in the last months, and yet might not be able to. My heart bleeds for her. As if it were my own heart.
On days like today, I do wonder, what the hell are we fighting for? If not - for love. For time. For joy.
Regret minimalization framework, anyone?
I am war. I am inflammable. I have never been so conflicted in my life.
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