Speaking gratitude into the world is a way of manifesting your reality.
You blame yourself, even if you did everything within your power to help them. Even if you had no idea they were struggling. Even if, deep down, you realize that you couldn’t have changed anything.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I might be obsessed with dying. Not that I want to die, but that I prepare for it at every turn. I think about how depressing it would be for my parents and friends if something were to happen. I’ve rehearsed what my last words would be if I had the chance to choose them.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bug you, but I’m looking for Jessica,”
“Sorry there’s no one here by that name,” she said.
Last week was heavy. Triggering. Confusing.
“There was nothing. Not a blackness, I mean literally nothing. It was like I blinked. One moment I was struggling for air, the next moment I was in a hospital bed.”