8.30.26

 
The hopeful in me, that hasn't died from the extreme levels of neglect or dystopia--psychosis, something at this point--is a miracle, but it remains. 

The hopeful in me, wants to call myself a channeler, because the alternative is too sad to put a name to. 
    I hear her now, in the back of my head as clearly as I hear my deities, giving me live advice, telling me to eat when I should, or take meds when I need them, to finish the remaining amount still left in the dose cup. 

    If it's not some weird channeling habit then I've mastered her personality to a skill point. Because it sounds just like her if she'd hadn't lost her mind to brain damage and MS. She sounds happy, tells me she and Morrigan have had time to speak. That she can appreciate being an "earth mother" for what it was. I told her she'll always be my earth mother. That when I go home, I'm just as excited to see her as I will be to see Morrigan. 

    I don't take this mortal existence for granted. I don't take the people who've given me their time and energy for granted either. 
    
    I'm on cold and flu and weed so this might write out very cheesily, but I'm too old to give a shit about that now. I'm glad I've beaten this cold so far back. We'll see how I feel tomorrow. 

Taf says he believes me when I say I can hear my mom and grandmother, like my deities. I'm not quite sure how he's so certain. 

Don't really know a lot right now. I'm tired. Still kinda sick and trying to create something worthwhile before I die... 

I was told 93 today. I gotta kick fucking rocks til then I guess...