make my funk a P funk, I wants to get funked up

There are days when I just cannot get a grasp on this disease.

Now, granted, I am also the girl who sometimes looks at human beings and thinks how freaking wierd we are...eyes, mouths, the things we do and say...I mean life itself is just this huge trippy alien that is outside the realm of even trying to understand -

but CF. What the hell is this? and WHY?

I know there are no answers here. It's like thinking about dying of CF. I can't think about that in any way that is any more real to me than pondering the cosmos or how an ant can carry a potato chip for miles on end. But I feel like I'm sort of just waiting. Waiting for the minute when it is all going to seem real to me. I don't know when that will be. What moment will I stop and think, "but yes, of course, CF...how ever did I miss you all these years?" Because I haven't missed it. It just IS.

This is so rambley. I just get caught up in the whole thing when I think of how we are all just spiraling around in this maze looking for the way out, some closer to the exit than others...

I don't know what I'm saying.

I guess Cf became real to me as I started to see it through the eyes of a mother. As a mother I can empathaize and worry and want to fight CF. As myself, I just want to sit back and turn off the lights and let whatever will be be.

Surely there has to be some answer for this fate. I'm just waiting for it to come whirling out of the sky on a spaceship with little green pseudomona men.