I don't wanna die, I wanna fucking live a long successful life surrounded by loved ones. But I can't, or at least that choice is ripped away from me. I have mythologized my sickness as a terminal illness comparable cancer. Every time I spend a day with my boyfriend I want to fucking cry because I feel like I'm gonna die anytime and I don't know how'd he cope without me. I try to give my loved ones happy memories of me and remind them that I love them because I feel like I'll disappear any time. My mental stability is supported by rotted wood and mud and it might collapse at any fucking moment.
People talk about how they want to die, well fuck, I wish I could have the autonomy to want to die, but fuck me I guess.
People talk about how they want to die, well fuck, I wish I could have the autonomy to want to die, but fuck me I guess.
