Well, not dead yet . . .

I'm not dead yet.

This winter has been torture, however.  I feel worse, look worse, and basically have gotten worse.  Walking has become not just painful, but difficult.  Just being has become, tough.

Of course, changes continue.

Part of me wants to believe this feeling I am experiencing is analogous to squeezing something through a small opening, that it hurts so much because it is close to done, but that I am near finishing the task.  Unfortunately, I now doubt this very much.

I have known the "almost there" belief for too many years, and this boy is done crying wolf.

Even if there is an "opening" to metaphorically squeeze through, it is likely too far or two small for me to achieve.  I'm not going to win.  If anything, one of these days I will slide something into a position that chokes me, my collar bone and throat being the mess they are.

That said, I couldn't stop "adjusting" if I wanted to.  The process continues.

I am miserable.