I swear I'm not lame.

I'm a little short of breath and my lungs hurt and my throat is shot and I keep coughing, TB style. Why? Don't know.

Diagnose me.

But if it ends up being anything remotely fatal, I'd prefer it if you just lie to me, because I tend to prefer the illusion of health as opposed to the gutwrenchingly harsh realities that I involuntarily shove to the back of my mind every single day.

I'd rather ignore the random inexplicable abnormalities than point them out to the someone and risk further, potentially frightening examination.

Hypothetical situations have always been my forte, along with empty wishing and imaginary scenarios where everything and everyone that I love last forever. Perfectly. AKA, exactly the way I like them.

One thing that provides me with just enough of a glimmer of hope is the notion that this time I just may be exactly where I'm supposed to be. 

There's always a reason not to throw away things you think you could someday need again. Sometimes it's best to just be frugal and ask yourself if, one day, you'll wish you'd kept it.

I really ought to stop more often and just work on being more appreciative of the things that I have, while I have them.

Instead of looking back, I'm just going to wonder about next year. What will have happened, who will I know, and where will I be?