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September 10, 2010, 06:40pm

I  I push the door of my house, and I put my bag in the hall. I go into the kitchen, and find the same post-it as every night for six years. We work late, there’s a plate in the refrigerator." My parents are worse off with the disease than I am, and yet I was diagnosed with it. I take the box out of the refrigerator and throw it in the garbage. I go to my room and slip under the sheets. And like every night for six years, I hope I don’t wake up.

//Best Friends// English VersionWhere stories live. Discover now