I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I hate fearing the unknown. I hate how everything has changed. I want to go back to how it was before. When everything was okay. When we were all okay. When hope was infinite and faith was strong. When I knew where I was going. Now I’m lost. Hanging my a single thread. Feeling like at any moment my life could take a turn for the worst. At any moment the worst thing imaginable could happen. I could lose you. Cancer could win. It could take you from me, and I’m shaking at the thought of it. I’m not ready to lose you. I need you. You have to be here to walk me down the aisle, you have to be here to hold your grandchildren. There’s so much that hasn’t happened yet, you can’t leave me now. I don’t want my children to only know of you by the stories I tell. I want them to know you. I hate when you talk negatively about this. I remember when you were first diagnosed and you had so much hope and you were invisible, this cancer wasn’t going to win. But now you’re telling me things like “the average life span for stage 4 colon cancer is 20 months after diagnoses. That leads me into next June. So I’ll be here to see you graduate, but after that I can’t promise anything” or like what you said to me today as your reason for not wanting me to get a car  “I have to look at a 5 year timeline on this loan and, if I don’t beat my cancer, you all will be left with that added stress and debt. I don’t want that to happen and I can’t guarantee I will win this. The odds are against me.” but you don’t get it. I want to get the car now because I’m scared you won’t be here when I’m really ready to get it and without you I don’t know what to do. I want you to teach me, you have to teach me. I’m so scared. and I’m in so much pain. I love you too much for this. I feel like I just can’t handle it anymore. I just want to go back to how it was. Please. please.