cellophane

There are certain times in life that are ripe with memories. Most of these are obvious times: birthdays, any sort of celebration really, but sometimes I am surprised by the moments that are unexpectedly hard. It’s tough to find myself in the middle of a happy moment, while others revel around me, only to feel like my guts have been torn out. I guess that’s something that as a survivor I have to get used to: celebrating the sweet and the bittersweet all at once. Accepting the salt of tears even as honey rains down around me. But the times that really get me aren’t special times at all. Often it is your grimace upon waking, the way the sunlight lands on the side of your cheek, or overhearing you laughing in that wonderful way of yours with someone else, someone who is not me. Giving up being the center of the universe is something I have to get used to, too. If I want to be truly human again, not living with one foot in cancer world, I have to let go of the spotlight and just be like everyone else. Forgettable… or at least willing to go unnoticed. Boy, that’s the hardest step of all. Allowing myself to be taken for granted will mean I’m truly free of the fear. I’m still working on it.