Poking around this morning in a folder filled with old "daily writes," I came across this letter that I wrote to the Great Mystery, a bit over a year ago, shortly before my descent into a year that was mostly comprised of Hell.
I think I'll share it (again) now that I have exited Hell for a while, I hope. Beware, it includes some cuss words that you might find offensive. Sorry, but I am not going to censor myself.
August 2010
Dear Great Mystery,
I want to thank you for letting the sun come out today, yesterday, and the day before yesterday. It has been an unusually cold summer, overall, and I know that the gray chill was depressing me, but I didn't realize how much until you gave us the gift of this outburst of sun. I'm still depressed and angry about all sorts of things right now, but less so . . . and that is thanks to this glorious sunshine and warmth. I even ordered a freaking hammock, as you know. It has been downright hot, some would say uncomfortably so, but I am not complaining. I will take all the heat I can get.
Thanks, too, for suggesting that memoir or personal essay title, Land of the Floor.
In addition to thanking you, I hope you won't mind if I also put out a request or two. You aren't a God per se, so I don't know if you grant requests, but if by some chance you do, here goes. I'm confused. Of course, I'm always confused on some level, but right now I'm especially confused. To be more specific, I'm confused about how to handle the rising tumor marker numbers.
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