2014’s Blog Story—or the tragedy of my mind

I know I have a while before I have to figure this one out. That if I want I can just leave it to That’s Different… but if I’m honest with you, that one might stop being a blog story and might turn into a little series that I can push out quicker.

 

I’m not sure. I’m just been thinking about life, and tragedy—you know, the regular, and this hit me.

 

So, some background.

I’ve spoken to my mum and she’s allowed me to share with you guys.

A few weeks ago, she was found a lump under his nipple. She went through the right channels and they found that that’s it was cancer.

She caught it early, and they have operated it, and start keno, thing with here are fine. And there’s no sign that it won’t be.

 

However, like my diseased brain likes to do, is, well, make tragedy bigger, grander, and so I started thinking about death.

Yeah, for me.

 

The thought that came to me was because I have two moles on the back of my head, they are annoying and ache when I get my haircut and they brush over them so many times.

Not the point. But in the shower the thought came to me of having cancer in my brain—or a tumour. Not the point.

 

The point being I had an option of getting it cut out and a huge percentage that I wasn’t going to be me again or I could leave it and dye in agony.

Yeah, people, that’s my brain for you, worse, I always, always, choose death.

 

But I feel in this way that I have a point.

(and this point has no actual real life actuary, I’m not smart, I don’t know what cancer of the brain is like, I’d have to look it up)

Anyway, there I was, lying in bed, dosing off as I have an imaginary argument with the Defacto about letting me dye. (This was the second time; the first was in the shower as I was washing myself)

 

Anyway, I won’t go into details. Really, you don’t need to hear the crap that came up inside my head, and, well, let my fall into one of the most peaceful sleeps I’ve had in a long time.

Maybe I should back-story that one day. Falling asleep in my coffin.

 

So, the end idea is this, and the title of this posting, as well as the idea of my blog story.

 

The Last Year of my Life

 

I was thinking that I could do this threw a series of diary entry type posts. Have it be from when his gets the news, up until… well, I guess I’ll have to think about that one, but I thought it was a good idea. I think it be interesting to see how my head actually takes that and uses it.

 

You see, I’m a mother now, and so if I only had a year left, this year, my whole life would revolve around my children. My family. I would be preparing them for when I wasn’t there. Writing things for my kids, when they are older—I know it’s a trop, but it’s a sweet one, and something that would be sweet.

And yeah, I have thought way too much into my own death. I know what I’m going to do under most circumstances.

 

But if you were free to do anything in the whole world. If you didn’t have to worry about people, you were leaving behind. Money. Anything, what is it that you would do?

I have lots of ideas for this, things that are for his darkest moments. Things for his happier ones. And things that he has to do in order to get to a point where he can lay his head down and let go.

 

The thing with this story is that a lot of it won’t be good. They will be wild, destructive, abusing, and downright sad, but I feel it’s something that I need to write, and since this shit with my mum has pulled all this crap back up from when I was sixteen, well, I should do it.

 

Now, it also will have to be said, that he is going to die at the end of the story.

That’s something that I think needs to be spoken about, because things can get confusing in the writing world. And as an author you can change things up, make something happy that doesn’t have that type of outcome.

Not this one. He will die at the end of the book. Weather it will comes right up to that moment—spoke in someone else’s words, or it will end where he can’t hold a pen anymore. Can’t think straight enough to put a sentence together, I don’t know, but this story, is what the title says.   

 

So… is this something you’d be interested in? Would you like to know that fucked out things in my mind in regards to this topic? Or is it too sensitive to really talk about?