With spectacular fashion I await the final crash. The one where the plane is crashing and tumbling and turning out of control but at the last second the pilot gets control and begins to pull up. It looks like he's going to be able to save it but little does he know that he doesn't have enough altitude to stop the meteoric descent. We're at this stage.
I feel calm and resigned. It may seem like I have it under control as I pull back on the stick but the reality of it all is that the ground is far too close and despite being given a moment of hope by the recovery, I quickly have realized that this is the end.
Numbness has washed over me with the decision and realization that the money was likely an estate of someone who I was supposed to look after and now no longer exists. So, it went to the right place.
The insurance check would have been nice and that alone would have saved the day but, it is what it is.
RIP Katherine
Now, the realization that there is no hope. There is no recovery and there is no chance has hit me. In many ways it feels like relief. In many ways now having all hope gone has felt like a relief because I no longer have to try to manage the situation and desperately pull together some winning situation out of being fucked over. When you're resigned to your fate a calmness comes because you have nothing more to frett about. You have nothing more to take and you have nothing more to try to glue together for an answer. You simply accept that this is the end and then you sit back and watch what happens next.
Now, I crawl away for good.
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