90 Days

Prologue

Every second, I think back to that day, approximately 89 days ago.

Here I am, nearly three months later sitting in a hospital bed, dying, thinking of all the many things I have completed off my bucket list; thinking of all the things I will never complete off my list.

I could never forget all the people that I'm going to be leaving behind. I know I decided to keep everything a secret from the people that didn't have to tell. My immediate family obviously knows, but my friends and whole school, aside from some of the teachers and the guidance counselors, are oblivious and I'd rather it stay that way until I'm gone.

I don't want a pity party. I want to live what little life I have left with no regrets and no one looking at me and saying, "Poor little Anesa, she had such a bright future."

I have no future. The doctors are sure that I'm in my final days. I will never attend prom. I will never graduate from high school. I will never fall in love and get married and have kids of my own, but one thing I can do is work on my bucket list, so I've decided to complete number 23 on my bucket list; write a book.

I'm just scribbling in this journal hoping that one day someone will read this and know what I've been though and get faith that they should be strong and get through anything.

It's 12:05 am. My mom is sleep in the chair next to me and my dad left out a little while ago to get a coffee. It's officially day number 90 and I'm still here. It's just a countdown till the end.