I think I'm going to continue writing and not publishing my blogs. I keep writing and deleting. I've realized that I have nothing positive and uplifting to say. If I can't inspire or make people think, then I don't really see the point in allowing people to read what I write. Initially, this was meant to show people a glimpse of what life is like while traveling this journey with cancer. There was always going to be bad that came with the good, but God was working and moving in my life. Now, a year and a half after surgery, I'm not seeing much movement and I'm not even back to where I was pre-cancer. More and more I'm believing that life is completely futile. I'm having a very difficult time understanding my battle with cancer, my spontaneous pneumothorax, or my history of mental illness. We fight so hard to survive. It's just our nature. But why? Why fight? What good does it do, really? Ultimately we all end up the same way. Granted, there are those one in a million type people who are just destined for greatness. They will always be remembered for the contributions that they have made to mankind. But, let's be honest, the vast majority of us are not those types of people. What about those of us who will not go on to marry and have children? We will have struggled and fought and in the end, no one will remember us 20 minutes after we are gone. So, that's my bitter and cynical post for the day. The sort of, "What's the meaning of life" kind of thing...and the answer is not 42. I suppose it could be, but it hasn't worked for me yet.
