is this how anne frank felt?

did anne frank feel as if she wasn't living her best self?  or did she just try to be in the moment, be mindful "i am a jew and i gotta be quiet, but quiet is good, quiet begets another day.  one day at a time, right mackenzie philips?  like aa.  "fuck", anne frank muttered under her breath "i could use a drink, or some gas".  cheap (the joke).  but i mean laughing gas. it's fucking 10 below zero outside.  all i'm craving is cheese.

i can give you 10 reasons not to like the dave matthews band , but does that make it true?  right?  maybe righteous, but not right.  so did anne frank live her best life?  what the fuck am i supposed to write?  she came, she saw, she left a diary, she gone.

is she a touchstone for me, for many?  on january 2nd 2018 she was for me, but as a butt of a joke.  do jews go to hell?  i'd give her a fuckin' hug.  you see for maybe 7 solid days it was subarctic temps and the outdoors was hostile.  held me hostage.  held my dog hostage.  he got into xmas eve pot roast garbage, which i'm thinking held onions, and had to go outside 5x in -10F to puke/poop.  and ace and i have our own apartment now, 2nd floor, on a busy street, so i must accompany him outside.  needless to say.  sucked.  thus my feeling sorry for myself after 7 consecutive days of confinement.  is this what democracy is all about?  wanting to be able to live your own life.  flesh this out but wanting to live your own life under the oppressive regime of cancer is similar.  and because i am alive in 2018, surviving cancer, am i living as my best self?

i'm doing my medium effort best self.  still married, but have my own place to spread my lungs and breathe.  got a job.  in therapy and on lifejuice which is probably why i can fucking blog, but is this it?  am i living my best life?  i mean it is check, check, check, but ?

i got into a car accident on jan 4 2018.  not my vehicle as mine was towed away by make a wish foundation thanksgiving 2017.  no this was a loaner, from a dear friend.  which makes it worse.  my mother after much sympathy says "well you should feel bad".  sums up my adolesence.  so yeah, fuck, i feel terrible.  now squared.  oh anne.  atleast i can get out every once and awhile and fuck shit up.  and go to the store.  and walk my dog.  and scoop processed goop out of a PLASTIC trash bag into individual 16 ounce PLASTIC "food" SCOOPS

did anne frank ever get a three day reprieve?  siesta?  did she get to go to a spa?  the grocery store?  a matinee?  fucking outside?  i dunno.  i should probably read her diary.  but it's her diary, like that's private.  i fucking hate the fuckface in chief.

i have the windows open and can hear birds chirping.  even though it's twenty something degrees outside, yes my windows are open.  it is a welcome sound.  jesus fucking christ.

you know how you're not aiming for a high, but you get high.  but then when you are aiming for a high, focused, and you geet high?  it's nice.

i haven't been high like this in a long time.  i've aimed, but not accomplished until now.

i awoke 540 am.  took my thyroid and hydrocodone.  an hour later i made a board, a fruit and cheese board.  opened a bottle of cabernet and queued up longmire.  i had the day off.

wow.  i just may eke out an existence in the short story section of society.  a lot is jammed in those 46 years i suppose.  but i for the first time am considering a future.  ish.  "oh baby it would mean so much to me. oh baby to buy you all the things you need for free.  when we're dreamin'.  for free.  need money.  every night before i sleep i find a ticket and win the lottery.  dollar bills swirreling around my head.  when we're dreaming.  let's do it.  you do it for free.  need money need money need money.  say my name free."  patti smith

yeah so ive been imbibing and being.  and i wanna be doing this, so this is an exercise.  i love my new office.  dad's buffet in the corner of my unicorn of an abode.

my husband and therefore my marriage has made navigating stage 4 melanoma a picnic.  like i can do this, it's way easier than being married.  i work at hyvee.  i collect $800/month disability.  i live in the unicorn of apartments.  my husband still provides me benefits, but that is not likely to last.  this blows?

i'm getting reacquainted with myself.  and she's good, she's good at the core.  but lost.  but also found.  simultaneously strong and weak.  i know i'm not the only one in the world or des moines, iowa that feels like this, where you wanna curl up in the fetal position and then take it to the streets, marching for the right to abort a fetus.

now it's guns.  and i am in the midst of more than separating from my husband.  and i'm still on lifejuice and dependent on my husband's insurance.  and i dunno what's next and i'm fucking scared.  i've done the hard work of getting my own place, getting a part-time job, all in the vein of working on myself and i thought my husband was doing the same.  but he wasn't.  he lied.

what would anne frank do?  what should i do?

my birthday is in one week.  i missed my quarterly scan because i felt it was going to bring bad news, and on top of everything else going on in my life, just this week, i couldn't face it.  makes me feel like a coward.  i'm just tired, and scared if i'm honest.  it's too much.  today feels less overwhelming than yesterday.  and i'm rescheduled.  but the last time i saw mo the specialist, he feared the cancer was in my brain, lying in wait.  so this week i couldn't take any more bad news.

i feel alive otherwise, but am i living my best self?  no.  i'm just living.  and am interested in more.