I'd had a really crap day, in tears on the phone to a friend, morphine not working so pain bad, fighting neck pressure headaches - the usual.
I couldn't sleep, so had been lying there for hours, then there was a massive roll of thunder. Normally, I'm not particularly bothered by thunder, but I was already jumpy from the panic attacks, and this time it scared me to death. I was awake for hours after that, with the lights on, waiting for more, which actually never came.
I became terrified that lightning would hit the building, come in through the window, and hit me. Childish fears, but there you go.
The quandry part, though, came when I found myself thiking 'I don't want to die'. For months now I've been fantasising about dying - doing it myself or hoping fate would step in. Either would've been fine, as long as I wound up dead.
In all that time, I would have welcomed a lightning strike with open arms. But there I was, wishing it wouldn't happen. I didn't want to live like this - still don't - but I didn't want to die. Which leaves me in a quandry.
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