I finally got to meet one of my absolute fave human beings in the entire world and he was the sweetest and most beautiful sunshine ever
I honestly love this man more than anything and to finally meet him irl was just unbelievably emotional, I don’t think it’s completely sunk in yet
(please excuse my face and my hair, i was NOT prepared for meeting the most beautiful person to ever walk this earth today so I look like a complete mess, but that’s okay because I have finally met Gregor and I couldn’t be happier)
So this most likely will be the last update on my dad. We just got back from the doctor’s on his latest results and well, it’s hard to say this. The chemo treatments aren’t working, and so they are stopping the treatments all together and now it’s all about making him as comfortable as possible. I quite honestly don’t know how to process it all. All I can say to you my friends, is please don’t take time for granted. Enjoy every moment with your loved ones and live every second to the fullest.
I want to thank everyone-the influx of new readers as well as my lovelies that have been here since the beginning. Your kindness has made my heart swell, I really feel like I don’t deserve the wonderful, thought out comments and questions you guys have had but I’m thankful for them either way. You’re all truly wonderful. Thank you so much. You breathe a life into this series I never thought possible.
I learned at a very
young age that being quiet kept you alive.
It was a game; a twisted version
of hide-and-never-be-found that had been ingrained in all of our minds, in our
chemistry. We grew up wishing so badly for a way out that we never got a chance
to be kids; to feel the unfiltered release of a day playing outside without
worry, or just being with each other.
Children in New York City are different;
they walk in neat lines holding on to ropes, a teacher in front and one in
back, exploring their surroundings under careful guidance and loving stares.
They hop along through the puddles of slushed snow in their designer boots and
little yellow raincoats, no care in the world given to anything other than who
they would be sitting next to at lunchtime.
I watch them sometimes, in transit from a small city field-trip to the
safety of their classrooms, wondering what life would have been like had I grown
up here. I wonder what Eliza’s life
had been like. I try to picture her as wide-eyed, pigtailed preschooler. She
fits right into the imagery, taking place of a rope-holding child sliding on
the sidewalk in front of me, navy plaid skirt, knee-highs, and all. My eyes
move to the space behind pseudo-Eliza, attempting to conjure up an image of
myself. There are pieces I am able to see; a longer, curlier hair here, an
incessant puddle splasher there.
However hard I try, I am unable
to fit myself into their mold.
Now, these things are becoming