digitalraven: (Default)
[personal profile] digitalraven
One of the reasons I make so many jokes about dying and coming back is that it's a coping mechanism. In that I don't have to examine what actually happened and how I feel about it. It's easy to be flippant and make jokes because that lets me both hide from it while still getting the feeling of being seen.

Therapy today was the first time I properly looked at it. At the one in several hundred — or several thousand — chance of me being here with only minor brain damage. At the frankly incredible speed of my recovery and how that's letting me blaze past the big things. At how I think I'm getting better faster than I actually am.

At how angry I get at hearing "there's always next year", even — especially — when I'm the one saying it.

Because if not for a chance slimmer than a silver Rizla there wouldn't be next year. I'd still be having seizures, be blind in one eye, be re-learning English. Or, far more likely, there wouldn't be any more years, because I'd be dead.

"There's always next year."

No there fucking isn't.

That's not to say I'm not going to make many, many jokes still. But there's so much more to it than the jokes and I'm only just starting to poke at that.
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