I don't believe in karma. I don't think there's any cosmic force keeping things in balance. I'm a nonbeliver. But if I did, this would certainly support the hypothesis.
In the middle of the summer, one night at camp, one of my great loves in life, I sent a text message to a few people close to me. I don't remember the wording, but it was something close to this:
"This might just be late night ramblings, but between camp and school, I'm about as happy as I've ever been."
Happiness cometh, happiness leaveth. Or something like that.
The precipice I fell down was steep and sudden. It changed my life. It made me not enjoy the things I used to enjoy. It made me think differently. It made me think badly. It took away the ability to care about things I once cared about. It took away from me.
For want of not turning this, once again, into a livejournal, I'll leave things there and get back to the disease.
I successfully traveled with diabetes, although insulin in a moving bus was a terrible experience.
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