Cancer. I am full of cancer. I am dying. My life is numbered by days, but I live it at my fullest.
Two weeks later I was terminal. Dying.
I didn’t need to be told that, I knew that, I live that. I look around at my surroundings. The smell of bleach suffocates me. The monitor that is connected to me fills my body with chemo. An antidote they call it, I just think of it as a postponement to death. I know it’s coming I don’t need lies.
I’m dying. Everyone is just some of us more than others.