The world has ended: I can't get onto Facebook.
Enough mindless babble. I need to confess something. I confessed it to Caitlin; I may as well confess it here.
I have all these crazy thoughts running through my head about being listed. It's consuming me. I'm being eaten by transplant.
I want to be listed, but i'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'll get it and I'll die, b/c the timing wasn't right. And i don't want to die - I'd feel like i got fucked and it was all my fault. B/c if it wasn't meant to be (the tx timing - like right now, like today) and it wasn't God's time, then He'll off and kill me b/c it wasn't my time to get it, and that I fucked up His Holy plan or something.
Fuck. I fucking hate thinking.
Actually, I just downloaded "You Can Count on Me" by Default. "..I'm here for you so don't forget you can/ Count on me coz I will carry you till you carry on/Anytime you need someone/Somebody strong to lean on/Well you can count on me to hold you till that feeling is gone/Anytime you fall apart/You can hide here in my arms/And you can count on me to hold you till that feeling is gone"
Anyways, now that I've had time to go crazy my head is clear. Thank you confession land, and Default.
I do beleive it is my time to be listed, but I hope and pray that the next time i can be afforded the luxery to feel like my regular shitty self when i see my tx doctors; not some illusion that's been provided courtesy of nerves and adreneline.
Oh thoughts and brain, you slay me with your monkey babble.
*turns to Default*
"I'm here for you so don't forget....you can count on me to hold you till this feeling is gone"