i am my own cuthbert

things just get worser and worser...

i had a dream that everyone i know died. i hate my dreams and i hate the awful sick feeling i get when bad things are coming. when my grandmother didn't show up to help with the animals last week, i hate that i knew she wasn't ever coming home. i didn't want to know.

she wasn't old. she had a lot of years, but she was not old. and she wasn't just my grandmother, she was my friend. i stayed at her house every weekend in middle school and she was the maid of honor at my wedding. we were all going to go to the beach when i get well. she wasn't a relic in a wheelchair in a home, she was alive. and we loved her. we still need her.

out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her? and furthermore, why couldn't it have been me? i'm just a little ball of wasted potential and hurt, barely alive as it is. i don't know where she's gone, either. if i was still a christian i could tell you she went to heaven, but i don't know anymore if heaven is real or just a scoop of white foma we use to comfort ourselves.

i had a dream that everyone i know died, and i'm still waiting to wake up...