And I knew the murmurs of the soul

What a weird old week. It's like a snake running through a maze of ants and bananas. Attached to this wonderful post is a picture of me pole dancing down the streets of Sheffield completely sober because that's the wild and crazy life that I lead. I'm not even sure where to begin explaining the things I've realised this semana. I'm sure the words will come out somehow, it's just finding a start and a middle and an end and getting those in the right order without setting everything on fire. Maybe fire would improve my eloquence... I don't know, it's all a mystery to me. I'm supposed to have an A* in English language and I can barely even construct a basic sentence. UN SENTENCE MUY BASICO. Sueñoooooo. Aieeee.

I think I forget what an extraordinary experience I've had and I seem to be finding a little hard to relate to people lately, that's probably it. It often seems people are intent upon being miserable. Everyone's wrapped up in a tornado of issues and sadness and complicatedness and lunacy and they don't seem to realise how lovely everything is. And to think people genuinely feel sorry for me because I've got leukaemia; I owe everything to being poorly, you see everything through considerably more simple eyes. It's just the irony of cancer being the thing that seems to have made my life wonderful. Maybe it's not the cancer that made my life wonderful, it just made me see that life is wonderful. Jesus, this is getting a bit preachy and philosophical. But with all these feelings of a kind of simple way of doing things and a simple way of life and love seem to ostracise and disillusion me from this drama filled universe. I'm kind of tired of it. Tired of melancholy and complexity. Just relax and eat steak sandwiches and throw paint around.

Not only all this but The Amazing Anniversary of Constanze's Obtainment of Cancer which is Good as She's Not Dead Day AKA my cancerversary is getting ever closer. Four long years. That really is insanity. I guess it's not a surprise though because I never really planned on dying. And before you ask, I'm having a badass hardcore exclusive party this year to celebrate. I think this is the first year where it's really felt like I'm proper beating cancer, it's the first year where I'm in the real world and all that jazz. Just a year to go until I'm in the amazing top 44% of people who survive to five years. THEN THE NEXT AIM WILL BE TEN YEARS. THEN I'LL BE PART OF THE SPECIAL 33.6%. Maybe I'll break the world record for living the longest after a cancer diagnosis. That would be epic!

My tooth is still alive. Still very alive and very sharp. I've been doing some DIY dental work to try and not bleed to death between now and my appointment in three weeks and I now have a luminous yellow tooth.WHOOPS. SAFETY FIRST AS ALWAYS. Oh lord, I've just remembered trying to find the epic kerfuffle I went through to try and find a dentist, holy moly pudding pie was that a challenge. I phoned some places and they told me to phone this other place but this other place was for PROPER EMERGENCIES (I didn't realise this until during the phonecall, I have no idea why any medical professional would tell me to phone this number) and she started asking me if I was in a safe place and if I could feel my own pulse and then after ten minutes of checking whether I was having a heart attack said there was nothing she could do. Que disastro. Moral of the story: Just because someone sounds clever on the phone it DOES NOT MEAN THEY'RE NOT TELLING YOU BULLSHIT. The end.

Bathtime now. Work tomorrow. Hospital on Tuesday. Too many exciting times. I need a nap.

Constanze :) xXxXxXxXx

P.s I went to watch some banger racing today. SMASHY SMASHY.

P.p.s IT'S NEARLY MOTHERFUCKING EUROVISION.

P.p.p.s Four years. Has it really been that long?