Stickwithitness

So... I don't blog any better than I journal. Whatev. I kinda banked on that when I started this thing. There have been days when I compose a blog in my brain, beginning to end, and then forget to type it out. And then forget about the blog completely. And the forget about the day completely. It's part of the sickness. Flakiness, eternal symptom of ADD.

I'd like to blame my schedule, but let's face it, I do nothing almost all day, most days. Lately I've been digging into this wedding planning business, and I fail at documenting that too.

There is a post, sitting, waiting patiently, that I need to finish, whether I think I can or not. And I need to finish it before the end of this month. I don't think I owe him that per se. I don't really owe him anything; I owe myself a little therapeutic purge. A real discussion about him and how his life, or lack thereof, still affects me twenty-five years later.

And whether or not one of the memorial candles on the altar will burn for him.

But DAMN I'm Debbie Downer today... I's gonna go back to bed and start this day over in a few hours.
Fair?
Fair.

My birthday.

Tomorrow I will turn 26. Today, my body is protesting that idea with all its might.

At this time last year, I was vehemently denying my ever deepening attraction to David.
At this time next year, I will be his wife.
This is the year my life revolves around my wedding. Our wedding.
This year, I contemplate calling in sick to work.