Life’s Shittiest Cards Are Never Your Own

First, an insincere apology:

I have neglected writing,

Some two weeks now.

The only excuse I have

Is my girlfriend was diagnosed with leukemia.

Not just any leukemia

But acute myelomonoxytic leukemia.

Whatever the fuck that means

And what the fuck that means is

She is in the hospital now

Hooked into chemistry

And will be there for the next two months.

I predict she will beat the rap

Modern medicine may not cure shit

But they have figured out ways

To let you live with what you have.

And at this point,

That is enough.

Besides I’ve negotiated a side deal with a God I don’t believe in

We have an understanding.

When she walks out that hospital door

It will be the most elevated and lucky moments

Of her life

And mine, too.

The last five years has brought me

Agony.

Fraud, divorce, and now having to watch a decent and kind person

Suffer.

Pain changes forms

But never stops

For anyone.

Except those too numb or stupid to notice.

I want her to exit this experience

Alive.

I want to come away learning a lesson or two

An understanding that no matter how shitty the cards you’re dealt

Someone would trade their cards for yours

And to know, and act like I know

That man’s most pathetic folly

Is to believe, at any moment in time

That we have more time.

We may.

We may not.

But for sure we can’t count on it.

And we should never live for a moment

That may never be ours

Rather

Live

Only this one.

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