storm

this weekend will be amazing.

i will not eat.

i will drink myself silly.

and maybe i will simply forget myself for a while.

i'm currently caught in the eye of a storm. one half of my life is beautiful and amazing, and working out exactly the way i have always hoped it would. the other half is falling apart piece by piece, while i struggle to find some peace.

my dad is dying.

my heart is breaking because i cannot do anything to save him.

all i can do is pray with all my strength that there's a cure, whether it be found in medicine and doctors, or simply found through blind faith in whatever god will listen to my pleas.

i'm hoping against everything i've been told, everything logic and science tells me that he will make a full recovery and live for eighty more years. live to be a part of the rest of my life, my children's life, my children's children's life. grow old with my mother. nobody is ready for this.

forty-eight is too young to be a widow.

seventeen is too young to lose your father.

and fifty-one is simply too. damn. young. to. die.