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It feels like things are just happening at the wrong time.

I feel like throwing up, but my throat is constricted.

Why do they have to say such things now?

Why do they have to present with me these new burdens, when I have this other stuff going on as well?

More emotional baggage added on to physical stress.

Not a good combination at all.

Apparently the secret is out.

I no longer have to keep silent.

At least I can relieve one burden.

You know Uncle He's rate of cancer?

The number is 3.

Bu Shawn, and I'm guessing Sam as well, doesn't know that yet.

So don't tell him.

I have a lump in my throat, and it's sinking lower and lower.

Twice already.

And twice too much.

That my feelings reflect the weather outside...dark and raining.

If my head is in a whirlwind, my stomach is in a tornado.

Can you tell the limitations of my thoughts right now?

Choppy sentences.

Sentence fragments.

Cluttered and unorganized thoughts and sentences.

One sentence per line?

Maybe I have a terminal illness...too late to fix...

Maybe I'll only have a month to live. Maybe three.

Maybe it'll be for the best and I'll learn more from that period of time than I've ever had.

Maybe I won't tell anyone, except the people who already hear of it.

Maybe they won't tell me until I've got only a few weeks left.

I'm so tired of running uphill.

Of pulling on something that's meant to be pushed.

There they come again.

Those waves of pain.

I don't want to admit defeat.

But I've almost given up on caring.

Still, the part of me that is too proud.

I don't want to admit it.

No, I don't.

Too scared of failure.

Too...?...to care.

Too...?...to do anything.

Life doesn't stop.

No, it doesn't stop.

Not for anyone.

Not at any place.

Never deos it stop until you catch up, it just keeps going.

Never does it wait until you're ready to face reality, no, it just keeps moving.

Moving along in that oddly timeless way it does.

Timeless, though everything is so short.

Though it feels like every second is slipping away.

And that there's not enough time in one day.

So tired of everything.

So tired.

So, so tired.

Tired of complaining now.

Tired of being so tired.

Tired of saying the same things over and over again.

Tired of saying things so much that they lose meaning.

...What more can I say?

When you said those things, what could I say?

(Help me)

(Listen to me)

(Care for me)

(Love me)

"Ignore me."

"I don't care."

"I'm used to it."

"You've done nothing wrong, because I don't care."

"It's just my personality and it has nothing to do with you."

"Just don't say anything."

I could have said more hurtful things, but even in the horrible state of mind I was in, I knew better that to hurt you even more.

They are all truths.

Yet, they are all lies.

 

 

I feel like throwing up again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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    mindless

    ☼ Find Me, Fix Me

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