6.23.67
I haven’t been able to get my thoughts together in a coherent way the past couple days. I don’t know if they will be coherent now, either. But maybe writing things out will help me begin to gather whatever it is that is going through my mind. My dad told me he was dying the first time he explained to me what Cystic Fibrosis is. It’s easy to understand: lungs are supposed to let us breathe, and they are supposed to be clear so that breathing- an essential part of being alive, and something that we don’t even have to think about to do- is possible. So why is it he was born with lungs that like to drown themselves in mucus? Why did he have to drown in fucking snot in his fucking lungs? Respiratory failure is what it’s actually called. But I don’t want to beat around the bush if I can avoid it. I tried to get myself ready for the inevitable the minute I knew it was going to happen. But that didn’t lessen the blow. It may have even made it hard
