Rolling a fine line, need to get back to California

Ask me if I have anything more to say about my ever changing condition and I will unhesitatingly answer that there is more to say than I can possibly relate in my lifetime. There is no hidden message contained herein considering just how long or short my lifetime might be. Words are finite whereas my experiences go on forever. Make of it what you will.

Somewhat briefly, because I have trouble dwelling on it and partly fear talking about it or writing about it lest manifestations arise, new discoveries and conditions are unfolding that cause me to worry. As I've messaged before, my left arm is weak, my left hand is the claw from "Liar, Liar" and my right limb is heading in the same direction. What I haven't detailed is to what extent my right has deteriorated. I've denied its worsening condition because I heavily rely on it to anchor me by its grasp, though diminished, both physically and emotionally. Not being able to walk, let alone rise from a chair, is tough enough without the added stress of a useless arm to my left and a battery powered right limb seeking a charge in a perpetual blackout. I keep waiting for the lights to ignite knowing the likelihood is remote. I find myself fantasizing (I'm not sure if fantasies can be dark, but mine are, so maybe they are something else) that both my arms are alike, largely useless, and that my core body strength has evaporated, leaving me a 225 lb. sack of flour, required to be hoisted as such.

The real problem here, in addition to my dependency issues, my blubbery midsection, my trouble doing anything I used to do, is that I have too good  of a memory and a kick ass (presently kicking my ass) imagination. I am happy, though, that I can kick something, even if it's in my head.

So I invite you to help me not to look forward, with trepidation, but backward, to the days when I was sure to live forever, to my youth, remembered with clarity, indestructible. To a youth more colorful than I would ever have thought. I am posting a small series of small life experiences, mine, all of which are unembellished and unfictionalized, all true as I can recall, and if you get bored, skip them and look for a little morbidity down the road.