in one week i'll have beaten cancer.
i'm not frightened in the least bit at the thought that i will live because i am certain, quite certain, that i am already dead. the actual dying part, the withering away of my physical body, is a mere formality. my spirit, my emotional being or whatever you want to call all that turmoil that has nothign to do with physical existence, is long gone, dead and gone.
i wonder if anyone can tell from just looking at me that all i am is the sum total of my pain, a raw woundedness so extreme that it might be terminal.it might be terminal velocity, the speed of the sound of a girl falling down to a place from where she cant be retrieved. what if i am stuck here for good?
