Past 21.

Happy Tuesday to me. Happy, survivable… whichever. “Survivable“ is the new happy, actually.

I’m astounded that I haven’t gotten COVID. Jinxing isn’t real (sometimes I wish it was, there’s many bitches I’d jinx).… so I’m just gonna roll with stating that. I’m vaccinated to the power of 3. My immune system is a beast too. I worked at Lifetime Fitness in my little girl working years (ages 17-21, off and on) and got CONSTANTLY sick from the kids. It was worth it though. I loved the kids and have happy memories there. Ever since I got mono, my immune system leveled up. I pick up stray illnesses periodically, but it is rare.

Choppy night of sleep yesterday. I’m hoping not to replicate it. Maybe it’s me and my wild caffeine habits, but another factor may be the wave of unexpected deaths in my peer group. Disarming. Bob Saget was sad and a little random, but obviously it doesn’t hit me as hard as people I had some one on one interaction with.

Dying young.

One of my parents (left intentionally blank) told me they didn’t think I’d see 21. They told me that when I was 17. It was a heat of the moment thing - lord knows I’ve said FAR worse - but in the moment it seemed plausible even to me. I don’t think I was planning to live that long at the time.

That world, that death-laden mindset is (usually) unimaginable to me now. Yet I have a sinking suspicion that I won’t make it past my 50s, though. Can’t explain it. Can’t explain a lot of my suspicions. They are either dead on or totally missed the mark. I believe God exists because of the ones that have, against all odds, in their own random ways, come to fruition.

Instincts. The future. I want to know it. I can’t possibly - I just want to be prepared. That would be missing the entire point of life though. Never omniscient. Curveballs suck, but I just have to so THE NEXT RIGHT THINGS, take my medicine (constructive criticism), and plow forward despite anxiety and the fact that I struggle IMMENSELY with the fear of failure.

Mal just wiggled over and sat in my lap. I love her as much as I love the rest of my family. At the end of the day, I love and am loved. What could matter MORE? My love and life outweighs my bitterness and disgust. The LIFE I have in me. My quiet and nondescript outer life, my muddled inner world, and the things that seem to only bleed out when I write.

Ramble, ramble, ramble. Until we meet again.