Until this time last year I seemingly had everything in my life under control: fresh off a nasty, nasty breakup that almost turned into a common law divorce, earned my MA and started a PhD program. Okay, the breakup set me back big time – she abused me for years, ran up credit cards, put me in a huge social and financial hole. But I figured I could get past it.
Well, life has a funny way of telling you to fuck yourself. I ended up going through rare synchronous bilateral testicular cancer. Great.
I’m a shell of myself. I spend more time online that I ever have now, I’m afraid to date. My friends are all gone – my ex used to, and I just found this out a few months ago, set up accounts in my name or use my phone to send crazy shit to them and my family. I thought they just stopped talking as a covid/life thing. Silly me.
It all feels so deeply pointless.