The 24th of April. I just can't escape it. It's not like I begrudge him the attention or anything like that, it's just that every time I see it I am reminded of how little it feels I have done. I might have made a few people sign up to be organ donors but that seems like nothing when you've got a gang of celebrities helping you raise over a million pounds for a charity that helps give people hope. Which is another thing - hope. I feel like I'm being bashed over the head with the fact that I have none, and there are a hell of a lot of other people out there who are terminal just like me, and every time we might forget that we've not got years and years ahead of us, we're reminded by the news of the ever-present spectre of death.
Or maybe they're not, maybe it's just me and I'm being incredibly selfish and I should just shut up and be happy. I wish I could. I wish I could have sat in photopheresis today not thinking about going next door to YPU and asking him exactly how it feels to be on the brink. Because that is what I so hopelessly want to know, and it something you can't really ask a dying person.
I am just in a terrible headspace and feel utterly miserable and pathetic.
The 25th of April.
Today hasn't been so bad. Daddy took me to photopheresis for eleven, and I ran really well today so I was finished just after one. We were going to go and see Transcendence afterwards, but we both read such terrible reviews of it, we decided against it.
This afternoon I did my workout during Spring Kitchen and Fifteen to One. Then I painted my nails rather messily, watched Hollyoaks, ate dinner and here we are.
Tomorrow is Sophie's hen do at Choccywoccydoodah and I am quite excited for all the chocolate. It will be something of a write-off, foodwise.