How am I going to tell you everything if I don't even know you yet?
How will I be able to explain the depth of the change that the fucking cancer has brought to my life?
And it's not only about having one less ovary, or the scars, or the tattoo.
Hello, I'm Noemi and I had cancer.
Oh, and I have, probably, PTSD.
That's not a conversation starter that I want to use.
And yet, somehow, I carry this bit of conversation around, waiting for the perfect moment to say it, if there's a "perfect" moment.
I do things differently now. I care more and I care less. More for those persons that I love, those things that I like and those memories that I want to have. And less for time wasting things, time wasting people.
The pain, the fear, the what if it's back. The sleepless nights, the tears, the wait. You were not there, I wsih you had so I wouldn't have to tell you about it. Maybe the changes in me wouldn't have been that deep if you'd been there.
I've been always bold, now I'm bolder. And you, mate, will have to like that.
N.
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