Also, to the first journal entry from january 2014 – fuck you.
Borris was picked up by Danse Macabre Online Literary Journal.
I hate death. It is unequivocally the most debilitating fear that I have in my life. I try not to think about it, knowing that it will grip me and I’ll be lost to it. This most recent face off with it was brought on by the season finale of Doctor Who Season 8 “Death in Heaven”. It was an irreverent and unforeseeable play on viewer’s emotions that was designed in my belief to root us further into the story by sautering this anchor in our minds. During the final minutes of the show I did tear up, I was able to compose myself and steel my heart against my fear. But in the quiet of the bedroom where things creep in the night I could stop my thoughts no longer. I began to remember my family, pets, deaths and separations that haven’t even occurred yet.
Jean. Norma. Grandma. Grandpa. Gramdma Ina. Pepper. Snickers. Buttercup. Shaggy. Pepe. Cookie. Mandy. I began again to fear my death, and it’s the leaving that fucking destroys me. The fear of leaving Briana. Of Annabelle. Of Evangeline. My mom. My dad. Molly. Ronnie. Autumn. Gracie. Then Gracie trigged there latent fear. When I was little I always used to counsel Norma telling her to take better care of her diabetes. Drawing her pictures, making books on how she can do it. I remember her talking about how she wouldn’t take insulin until her blood sugar was 600. I remember thinking when I was little how easy it was to have self control, and now I look at me and I see a serious lack of self control in myself. I have been constantly high lately despite the insulin I take. I see Gracie now that she has diabetes. She’s me and I’m Norma, and I’m failing to take care of myself and I can’t help but be scared of diabetes and that I’ll end up like Norma. Remembering the dialysis. Remembering the scars on her legs and the way diabetes destroyed her. I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be the person my niece looks at and says uncle chad its easy, just take your medicine, why can’t you do that? Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I don’t want to repeat it. I have to remember that I have the power to change, I can be the person gracie looks at and says I will be like that when I grow up, diabetes doesn’t have to stop me.
But the fear, the eventuality of goodbye is there still, even if I wasn’t diabetic, one fucking terrible god awful cursed devastating day I am going to have to say goodbye. And I don’t want it to come.