Every time my parents have the gall to light up a goddamn cigarette, in the light of what's happening to my stepbrother and the fact my stepdad's ALREADY a cancer survivor, I... honestly... I get mad, but I also feel a tiny little burden lifted off my shoulders.

Because it reminds me this is their fucking decision, and it reminds me Ohio ain't my circus, ain't my monkeys, and ain't my fault as it all falls apart. They didn't embrace this fate, exactly, but they sure as hell didn't run from it.

I will still support them until the day I lose them, and do everything I can in my limited powers. I will play dutiful child and they will never know how angry some of their decisions make me after all we've been though. It's their decision to make and I still love them.

But now I know I don't have to strain myself, or try to do anything heroic. Because they're not. And if I ever decide I want to go back to living in a way that's gonna slowly kill me... the only thing really in the way is Peggy.

And I am sure as fuck gonna reward her for standing firmly in the way of that, by making it through this stupid-ass world as long as I possibly can for her... Some part of me would rather be scarfing down donuts and cheeseburgers like there's no tomorrow (because maybe there isn't), but...

I always kinda wanted to try the straight and narrow, anyhow, just to see if it would actually work. My personal gods have been hounding me about it for DECADES, and I swore I'd stop running someday and give in. And you know, it kinda isn't so bad at all, actually getting up in the mornings and acting like I give a shit about myself. (Actually, I only really give a shit about her for the most part, but that's a damn good substitute.) And I'm so grateful to her for finally cornering me and giving me a reason to give it a real try.