one tear. just one. so, make it a good one.

I have never before had to deal with death--or its prospect--the way I have the last two years, let alone the last two months.

I don't know what's going on. I don't like it.

I don't like my sudden, subconscious preoccupation with it. Talking about it. I catch myself bringing it up in conversation. Even when it's completely irrelevant.

. . .