Being sick is very hard to admit to myself more than to others. It's like admitting defeat - throwing in the towel. I don't like people treating me differently because of my challenges. I shouldn't get a free pass because of my circumstances.
It takes a lot of hardwork and continued efforts throughout the day to pretend everything's alright. The amount of focus it takes to keep the negative things corraled requires mental stamina; sometimes the difficulties show through the cracks of my well-crafted façade. And, there are times that I just want to let everything go.
So, what do I want? If I'm not looking for sympathy, then what? I guess I'm looking for empathy but I can't trust others to really understand because they don't know what it's like. I don't need someone to take care of my physical needs. I need someone to instinctively know when I need a break, when my soul is more weary than my body.
I need a partner, an equal who I can lean on while he's also leaning on me. Someone who fights for his vitality as much as I do and gives life to others even when there's not much left to give.
When I met Edward, that's what he brought to me: the realization of what I've been looking for and finding it sitting at a bookstore café. The scary thing about finding that is also learning how tenuous and temporary that kind of connection can be. The daily reminder of how precious life can be is also a surrender to fate's fickleness and time's brevity.
Being the one to keep Edward company through the end of his journey was a great honor. I know now why I was chosen to be his travel companion. It's because I was one of the few qualified and equipped to survive walking through what was to follow on my own. But I wonder if I will be as fortunate to fine someone to escort me to my exit. Will I be able to endure my end alone? I guess fear gets all of us regardless of our heroic attitudes. Deep down, we're all just looking for someone to hold on to.
To be continued another time. My head is hurting...
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