Um...

I’m not so annoyed today. The fog has lifted. I walked around town at lunch – a good hour spent walking briskly, which, if I do it often, shall hopefully reduce the flubby flabby bits that keep popping up all over my body.

On a more serious note, a girl at work has an auntie that is refusing to have any more chemo, and will die in 6-8 weeks. Can you imagine having a death date? I can’t. It would be so bizarre to know when you’re going to die. I want to go quickly, and unexpectedly. When you’re depressed, death is a subject you think about a lot. Or maybe I’m just dark. My mind has always chosen to dwell on things that are a bit morbid. But death does scare me. I have no faith to hold on to, no visions of an afterlife, I think you just return to the same black hole of nothingness you came from. I really wish I could believe otherwise, but I just can’t.

I’m so glad I went to Paris. It was something I really wanted to do. I can die happy knowing that at least I did that. I miss it in a weird sort of way. Usually I return home from a holiday pleased to be back. But I’m even dreaming about Paris now. If you get the chance, go. I have an obsession with Kath and Kim, so I want to go to Australia. But that’s not very likely to happen as it’s a ridiculously long flight, and quite pricey too.