I don't understand this tendency to anguish over things that I can't do anything about anymore.

Every day that I survive is a small victory.

My heart is heavy in a certain way.

It was probably poor planning to drink coffee at 9 p.m. and expect to be able to sleep.

I’ve never been sore from crying before. I mean, literally sore. My recti abdominalis hurt the next morning.

So S (of whom I’ve written a few things here and there) got married on Saturday. Strangely, it didn’t seem like it had been all that long since she first hooked up with her now husband, but four years is a pretty long time.

It’s been a strange ride. Friday, against my better judgement, I went to the Beer Festival. Hilariously, I ran into a bunch of people from my residency class. I didn’t know whether to be disturbed or to be comforted that there were at least six or seven physicians at that place.

Summer’s beginning to give up her fight…

So Mireya¹ actually called me back and like a fool, I said, no, I can’t go out tonight. Stupid.

Summer is officially over (despite the fact that today’s high was 76°F and I went out in shorts and flip-flops) and I can’t help but wonder where all the time went. Of course, I don’t know if it’s an artifact of getting old, but it also seems like it’s about a decade since it was June. (Yeah, I’ve been noticing this strange paradox ever since I started residency. The recent past seems simultaneously like it was just yesterday, and like it was 100 years ago. Go figure.)

Any moment of triumph crumbles quickly into despair. This may very well kill me some day.