Goodbyes?

There I was talking about the queen of queens. Right now I feel just like a queen too, this time, the queen of cowards. And I've had the most restless night to prove it. Perhaps I can't face goodbyes. Or, most likely, I cannot face pain, so I run away. I should have been at a funeral today, but I wasn't. I just couldn't do it. For once, I thought, what's the use of going, crying like a baby, and undoing all that therapy? The sad reality is that although I didn't go, I still cried like a baby, and probably still undid all that therapy. I just thought on the lines of, this time I'm going to think of me. The dead are dead and one less at their funeral won't matter. I'm sorry Yvette, but I just couldn't, and given your forgiving nature, it'll be ok from your side. And it'll be ok with her, but I have just embarked on a massive guilt trip. Yvette may forgive, I don't. I don't even forgive myself. So I woke up about 10 times this night, and now have a cough to prove it. I always know when I am in distress because my lungs cough it up. They are probably my worst organs giving the 20 years of feeding them nicotine. They are also probably my smartest organs, they give me the warning sign. It's like an SOS, help needed, now, immediately. And suddenly I'm off food, which is crazy. Yet another SOS. I thought I'd just sleep it off. I didn't. And it's all so sad. Sometimes life is way too ugly to understand. Or maybe my brain's just had enough of trying to deal with untimely goodbyes.