So once again I’ve been tempted back into blogging...
Exactly 3 weeks before I walk to the valley of death, here I am when I should be dozing off to get at least 1 1/2 cycle of REM before attending my pathology class.
But something is different this time, more than me merely living up to my lethargic nature. Granted, I find these words I’m typing to be infinitely more interesting than the technical sobriety of academic writing. Yes, I want release but as my fingers fly over letters and I form them into words, I feel my usual cheekiness somehow mixed with… sadness.
And it hits me: Am I suddenly being so maudlin, so uselessly sentimental?
As I am now.
As I know I will be tomorrow...
And the day after tomorrow.
Somehow I am gratified by the sadness I feel. Not because of a penchant for masochism, nor even a liking for angst and “woe to me” situations. It’s because it makes me feel that all I had to go through to run the race was worth it...
He was worth it.
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