I'm not attempting to be a constant downer. I had hoped that with each revelation about the difficulties of simply existing, never mind being a cancer survivor (or survivor of any life-altering event) that I had infused a bit of humor into the struggle. I was watching the O.C. tonite, yes, I love that show, and Seth (the boy that beat my brother out for the part so we're not to mention the name of the show in front of him, even if him and Adam are friends) was consoling Lindsay. I could tell you about what but then this becomes a whole recap of who is who and what is going on and that's not going to really help. Anyway, he says that they joke after traumatic events, or even during traumatic events, and even though she looks skeptical at the time, she catches on and throws one in herself. I would hope that I do the same here, and in my life. My friend accuses me always of being self-pitying, I prefer witty with a side of self-deprecating. I know the limitations of a situation and it's hard to be honest in a forum when you don't know who's reading it and what they're thoughts of you are. I'm always concerned about how people view me, what they think of me, and how I come across. So being here behind words doesn't really help to gauge the reaction of those who may or may not be looking this over in either agreement or snide giggles. I guess that's the chance we all take when we agree to be honest about what goes on. And I guess that's the chance that I'm taking when I decided to not just write about my illness in and of itself. That will always be the safer route because most people won't mock cancer patients. But when you choose to be honest about life after treatment, or life in general, you open yourself up so much more. And I find that here I am, making jokes about the fact that at this point in time, I'm so confused, so lost, so searching and at times, so lonely. Lonely because I feel that every action needs to be reasoned and explained. I'm always concerned about the deeper meaning behind each choice I make. It makes you guarded; and when you let down your guard and become vulnerable, even for a minute, you're more likely to freak out obsess. It's so much easier to be closed off, to not tell anyone what this is like, but then that's only because no one can know of the embarrasment or the questions or anything that can't be tied up with a pretty bow.

I'm not going to say I have any answers. It's obvious from reading through this I don't. I am struggling with my new life. I hadn't ever thought that I didn't have to leave home or move across the country in order to start over again. Although now, I feel that it's exactly what I'm doing. I'm reestablishing things that most people my age have already done. They've navigated the unsure world of where I'm at just now, and whether or not they've actually come to any conclusions, they at least know somewhat of where they're going. A lot of my friends can't understand my constant overanlyzing or seemingly strange behavior. Who cares if you got drunk? You had a good time! Who cares if your boss yelled at you? They'll forget about it tomorrow! Who cares if your bank account isn't all that high? You're only 25 and single! I know how to handle the big stuff, the actual life crisis. It's the little stuff, this everyday stuff, that I just can't seem to get a handle on.

Oh wow. So you write something and then before you can hit the delete key, it's published. It's out there, and you can read over and over again about your a. lack of dating skills and b. fear of death. Nice. But I'd be going against the rules I set out for myself when I started this whole thing if I deleted what I wrote. So I'm stuck with the whole world (or the handful of people who read this) knowing how lame I truly am. But in the new spirit of "LIG" (let it go), I will and allow for the fact that I am not as cool or as detached or as together, I might have wanted to appear to the world at large--and in that instance I might not have been fooling anyone anyway, so it's really not that much of a loss, right? Okay, moving on.

But I guess that's what this is all about--fear. Our fear of being human. We always are consumed with it, even if we try not to act like it. Yes, I am very scared of dying. Of being the friend that has left the group, to be talked about in the past tense, and after a week of intense crying to be an afterthought on holidays, and anniversaries of birthdays and deathdays. The moments in between where you may have been a thought in someone's head when you were alive, you no longer are. You're no longer an active participant in anyone's life, and because you're alive to know you're going to be forgotten when you're gone, it's a scary thought. Not that I think about this all the time, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't cross my mind on more than one occasion.

Okay, more fear. The fear of actually caring. I feel that I have this pattern of having guys fall really hard for me, only to then have them turn around and coldly leave. Often with no explanation. So, I'm always left with the "what did I do wrong" "what can I do differently" and "what the hell is wrong with me." I'm tired of all this. It's so exhausting to be in a relationship, to fall for someone and then to have them decide to move on (regardless of the fact that this is normal and human and how life actually progresses). See because caring can lead to getting hurt, and I am just done with getting hurt. I'm done with not knowing what to say when, what to do when, worrying about if I'm too aggressive, too shy, saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing and all that other stuff that comes with it. I'm done with getting hurt and disappointed, because I feel as if I have enough to last me a lifetime. But I guess you can't be in a relationship, or a semi-relationship, or a casual hookup that takes place at 4 a.m. drunk and tired, without the possibility of getting hurt. So, quite a dilemma. I hate monday morning quarterbacking about my weekend and where it went wrong, but I guess it's better than recapping all the t.v. shows I watched. I don't know which I'm more afraid of--dying alone or analyzing alone.

I've mentioned that I'm horrible at dating, right? I can't read signals--good and bad--and like most things in my life, I tend to make a mess out of any and all potential boyfriends. I think that I also have this problem that I'm trying so hard to erase last year in the end, I wind up making an idiot out of myself. And in my lame attempts at being 25, I find myself constantly questioning every single decision that I make. And I have a hard time dealing with my mistakes. I feel that everything should be better, I should be more enlightened, and yet, I can't seem to get my life back on track, where it was. When I was completely confident in a career, when I had no problems meeting guys, when the world seemed like it was full of endless possibilities. Now, I feel like I'm pressed up against the starting block, waiting for the gun to go off, so I can make the mad dash before it's all over. I'm petrified of dying young. I'm so scared of not having lived, that I make rash and stupid decisions.

When it comes down to it, I guess, I never really admitted my ultimate fear of my untimely death. We had to do a visualizing exercise over the week at a leadership and we had to see ourselves in a year. Okay, why did I see a headstone? Is that not fucked up. I think that's unbelievably depressing. What am I thinking? It's not as if I've been given just a year to live. But here I am, scared of getting to close to anyone in case I do die; and then scared of not getting close to anyone in case I do die. I really am a headcase. I have serious issues.