I’m here today to get something off my chest...something that’s been eating away at me through weeks of tedium, months of quarantine, and years on a presidential rollercoaster of which I cannot seem to get off.
It seems to me we spend our entire childhoods wondering who we will be.
I recently asked a homeless man on the A train if he had a peanut allergy before offering him the rest of an entire container of dark chocolate covered peanuts.
In 2019 many of the women in my family underwent genetic testing to find out if they had genes that put them at risk to cancer, namely breast cancer.
A few posts back I wrote about not being able to remember myself before having had cancer. About how my old bedroom was a mausoleum to who I was pre-illness, and sometimes I just wish I could live one day without the weight of cancer survivorship pressing somewhere on my soul.
I’ve been told people enjoy my writing.