"Life is no way to treat an animal." Kurt Vonnegut

My heart's not working right. It's beating out of time. Fluttering, sputtering, flapping, gasping, gurgling.
Everything has changed. That's a lot to deal with. I carry my phone with me and practice my speed dialing. I think about how I'll be found and worry about folks rummaging around in my things, after I'm gone. I'm concerned that my legacy will be messy and untoward. I don't even know who I am anymore.
And I'm all alone.
As much as I delved into my psyche, when I was younger, I never reached the depths that I now know. I'm quite intimate, at this point, with these new surroundings, but because of past experience, I sense there's someplace deeper still. That much I've learned. Although, I don't know what to make of this knowledge.
Sheer joy, abandonment of inhibitions, calm, the ability to be spontaneous, foot loose and fancy free - all of these things have vanished. I'm worried, uptight, afraid to try anything, afraid to travel (even short distances), afraid of what I know, concerned about being with someone who doesn't know my situation - in case something should happen.
It's looming - the thing that might (will) happen. It's an awful presence.
I know I should focus on the positive - god knows, I try - but, it's rather difficult when EVERY beat of your heart - something you always took for granted and never noticed - reminds you of your mortality.
I know I'm a drag to the world, and myself, but I'm doing the best that I can.