“I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.”
~William Shakespeare
I have a doctor’s appointment in the city with a specialist on Tuesday to further investigate the Mysterious Sickness of Doom. Almost a whole year now with only fractions of answers and no real completed puzzle.
And I cannot deny the amount of fear that’s been eating at me. What if I don’t get better? What if I find out something terrible? What if it keeps getting worse?
What if I’m the next funeral?
And I can’t stand it right now. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I want to ask for some help, but I really don’t know what to say or do. So I just sit here. And I wonder. And I can’t sleep.
I think about the wasted time. Then realize I’m wasting more time. Like I am now.
Because I am mortal. I am afraid. I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is very wrong.
I really need to convince myself to go to sleep.
~Angel
Misadventures of a Misfit 