21/1/2018, 05:48 pm
Fear.
That's the only thing I could feel. A fear of not having tomorrow. A fear of being forgotten rather than dearly missed.
I have a lot of fears. My fingers and toes aren't enough to count them.
I'm constantly scared.
Always anticipating the worst.
And what scares me even more?
It always happens.
Paint a smile and fake a lie of being fine. That's what I always do.
But I'm so fucking scared to live anymore, so why paint a smile and fake a lie?
There's a possibility I won't make it alive past 3 months. I'm scared it's not enough for me to spend time with my loved ones and remind them how much I love them.
I'm scared.
YOU ARE READING
One Last Miracle
Short StoryDying. That's how she is. Dying. -- Miracles happen and one of them is the desire to write her thoughts in a worn out copybook. So she does and she hopes when she's gone, anyone would find it. That's the only way to ensure she won't be forgotten.
