OG Tumblr girl meets big girl blog for another round of ‘I need a writing outlet.’ I promise this time around, I might just make something of the nonsense…Maybe…if I really try…

So here I am, speeding rather aggressively to the frightful age of 29 and still getting ID’ed to buy my mother’s smokes, hanging out with 20-year-olds because I seem to fit in with them better after going through a breakup. There’s something poetic yet soul-crushing about seeing a future for yourself, a wonderful one. Then, one day, you wake up in a burning building and have to leave with just yourself. I wish I could say that that was, in fact, the worst of it. However, if you know me, things never seem to greet me gently when they arrive… a freight truck, for one, if you please.

The day my mother got diagnosed with cancer.

That was about 10 days after my world ended, and it felt like it ended again in the hospital room, sitting on the lino floor just existing. Cancer, Lung Cancer, small cell means it’s small, right? Treatable? I learnt a fair bit about cancer that day, sitting there listening to my mother wheeze for hours, not wanting to go home to an empty house and think about any of it, let alone my exams looming on the horizon. I knew my mum was sick for a little while. Being a smoker for so long, I expected this kind of outcome at some point, but expecting something and being ready for when it knocks on the door are two entirely different things. Nothing quite hammers home: ‘Life is short’ than confronting the ideas of mortality head first, whether you’re ready for that or not.

Life is short. The world is wide.

I want to make some memories… But that is easier said than done. I had plans to move out at the end of the year, to move cities even and now I’m covered in an overwhelming amount of guilt every time I head out of the door. Even when my lovely mum tells me to go out and have some fun. ‘I need to fill my own cup.’ That’s what literally every kind human that has been gracious enough to sit and chat with me has said. But I don’t think that’s the issue at the moment. The problem is that my cup is damaged and not retaining anything. I think that’s why I’m feeling such highs and lows incredibly inconsistently and frequently.
I need a new cup.

An upgrade, if you will, something more significant, more sturdy, with no cracks or leaks or metaphorical bullet holes in it. These things take time. I know they do, but I’m trying my best with what I have to work with. (I did a man look in the bottom of the cupboard if I’m honest) So please stick around. This blog will be a wild time, I think.
Anyway.

Fighting for my life.
Steph.