A poem written by Aislinn whom I met on Twitter through the Sunday #btsm chat. Aislinn was kind enough to allow me to share  these words:

Staring blankly at a shattered mirror
Where void of emptiness appears surreal
Unbearable silence wandering near
The ghost of whom it will never seem real.
Curiosity in the kindest way
Where words wasted to be too serious
Where the words wasted are taken astray
Creeping melancholy mysterious.
Where plows dig up the soil of growing land
And leave behind the fields filled with forsake
One under the false pretense of command
A barely breathing forgotten mistake.

Keeping close pieces of which I once was
But keeping pieces close only because

Went out surfing today for the first time in about 16 years. The result, pretty bad! However, can't be surprised considering I only surfed about 10 times before. However, it was great to just be out there again. The water was warm, the sea air was salty, and the set of waves came in nicely. Now I get to enjoy a few days of really sore arms, the experience of having gone out there, but most importantly, not having the regret of not going.

So why now, after 16 years? I guess it's part of the "don't be a human being, but a human living' mandate given to me by Dr. Wertheimer. Also, I've been recently living with the mindset of, "Might as well..." My loved ones and people who care about me have been encouraging through this ordeal. They've encouraged me to believe that I will live beyond my prognosis, no problem. However, I guess for some, myself included, it's easier said than done.