I’ve been hurt so bad and I still love so hard. I admire my heart for that.
I am alive. I woke up and I realized my heart was still beating along with the throbbing ache in my head.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.
Please don’t, above all, plant me in your heart. I grow too quick.
The fact that I am sick tends to bring up thoughts of death to mind. I am very paranoid. Every night for the next week I will go to bed and think to myself “This might be my last night…” and that’s just how its going to be. If I am still sick by next week my paranoid thoughts will draw to the conclusion that I have cancer or some plague virus that started on me, which will eventually kill off the entire human race.
This is my mind. This is who I am.
I also want to say to my friend that I am sorry for saying his wrist pain was not pre-arthritis, but a progressive stage of wrist cancer… my mind is cruel and that is seriously no joke.
For the time being, if this shall be my last night, I would have spent it well with friends and good day at work and some nexflix viewing.
I admire you all.
Just to give a piece of advice to you all, before I pre-maturely die, don’t be paranoid, do not follow into my footsteps, do not search your symptoms on google, just don’t. Google is only your friend for porn, shopping and high school research paper (occasionally).
Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time?
WHEN A BASIC BITCH TRIES TO TALK SHIT