Fuck Cancer.

Someone I grew up with is dealing with cancer. A brain tumor. We were best friends, before life and circumstance caused us to drift, and she’s a good person. She doesn’t “deserve” this. (Not that anyone does.) She’s lovely, and kind, and sweet, and her tumor is growing again.

I am so fucking angry right now.

She’s missed out on so much — her own wedding, for Christ’s sake — and she’s only 30 and she’s having to deal with all of this. Her family is having to deal with it.

What the fuck have I been doing, sitting here worried about my own small shit, when nothing that I worry about even matters. Who the fuck am I to think my shit is important when I have my health and my family and those two things are all that anyone could ask for.

It makes me rage, and I have nothing to rage against. I’m crying, but crying won’t help.

She’s the… fifth? person in my personal life to have tangoed with that motherfucker. Five. More, if you count people I know once-removed. So many more. And where are the answers? Where is the end? Why the hell is such a beautiful person being attacked by a monster so horrible most of us don’t even speak its name aloud? What the hell is wrong with us, that we haven’t cured this yet?

I don’t fucking dare feel sorry for myself. I have so much to be grateful for.

3 thoughts on “Fuck Cancer.

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