May the depths you have reached hold you still – John O’Donohue
Twenty-three years ago today, I woke up with a sore throat. I went to work, and within a few hours I had a high fever and could barely walk. I had suddenly become incurable.
I had planned a longer, more poignant post to mark this anniversary, as I have in previous years. I thought I might take another victory lap, and make a cake.
But the truth is, I am too heartsick. The years pile on, and my life spools out behind me. I look forward, and I see more of the same.
Twenty-three years ago today, I became incurable. An unknown number of doors slammed shut. Yes, others opened, and I have even kicked a few down. But the fact remains.
You want the truth? Twenty-three years ago today, I became incurable, and I am sick to death of talking about it.