Sixty five roses

Hello you cheeky lot!

Then again...

If this is just 40 year old fragile me peering through feeling nostalgic then I guess... hello... you cheeky... weirdo?

Anybody who has had the strangest pleasure to meet me will be bored by the fact that I have CF... Cunt Fuck syndrome....

Only joking (kinda) 
CF stands for - Cystic Fibrosis.
In short...
A lung disease that also affects the digestive system and any other possible organs it can wrap its sticky cyst ridden claws around.

I mean, for christs sake.
Of all the things I could be shit at it had to be bloody breathing didn't it?
Just about the one key element to be able to exist.
Brilliant. Fab. Whizzer.

Also the fact that my life expectancy is between 30-40years old (here's the inside joke I mentioned earlier) would mean that really I should have been...
Married by 7.
Had kids by 11.
Installed by mid-life grape fuelled crisis at 20.
... and be happily retired and drinking pina coladas whilst cruising the carribian at 30.

But the reality being, I'm sitting here typing up a blog whilst fishing out long lost chips that have dropped into the abyss of my bed from my glorious McDonald's cuisine I divulged in 20 minutes ago.

I mean,
It's no wonder I'm still single. Not entirely a selling point is it?

Hi fall in love with me and have my child and then I'll leave you in the most painful way possible and your dreams of having a beach house whilst growing old with me in a rocking chair overlooking the lake aren't going to happen. Ever. Soz.

Crushing dreams since 1993.

However if you haven't learnt by now. I have a morbid sense of humour. And if I ever was lucky enough to be in the position to break hearts as I lay on my death bed... it would probably go a little something like this...

I would lay there wailing 'I can see the light... there's.... there's.... THERES JESUS. He.... he's saying to take his h-h-hand and... touch...



Touch his...balls??!!'


And then I would return to eating my bargain bucket KFC I would have so lovingly placed beside my hospital bed.

I'd probably also order weird bondage items to be delivered to my husband once a month after I passed so he would look like the creepiest guy on the street and everybody would call him 'gimp mask man' cos you know... banter.

Coughing up blood on the regs is barely a good start to the day although I examine different hues and how they would probably make a great shade for a lipstick. Cosmetics anyone?

However, I wouldn't change this for the world and I have had this all my life and will continue to do so and it's taught me a very valuable lesson in learning to appreciate every beautiful waking moment that you can JUST BREATHE.
Even if that is all you did today. Then you're doing just great.

No moment goes unnoticed. And every feeling is felt in its entirety. I'd rather die knowing I had the time of my life speeding on a motorway in an open top roof of a car singing my lungs out and staying up to watch the sunrise. Than have nothing to show for my bitter sweet short life.

Anyways enough of my ramblings....

Until next time,

Nic xo


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