Considering, I will be okay. Considering the things that’ve happened in the past, that is. Considering the tough shit and the good shit and the unthinkable. Considering all of those things and more, I know it’ll be okay and I’ll be good, no matter what. That is the only reason you can go on and sit and have a cup of coffee or pick up your paycheck or something stupid and mundane and awful to admit when you know someone is dying but you are too far away and you don’t know how to make sense of things yet. I want and I want and I want and even if I can’t be there right now, even if I can’t have mike back, I still love them, and things will be okay.

There is no other reason to believe this other than noticing that despite feeling like I honestly do not want to continue, I do, and I am like myself again, but there is no reason for that. There is so much good to be thankful for and to want to live for, and I am sure it outweighs the bad, but it is difficult to convince yourself of this fact when you’re right in the goddamn middle of it.

When I can, I will live in the middle of nowhere with someone I love, and I will meander all day, picking up neat leaves or feeling bark or touching the surface of the water and I will be happy.