The things we can't control

August 30th

5:02 pm

Everything fell apart so quickly.

I was starting to feel better.

I was finding myself again.

We started talking all night long like we used to and I was slowly becoming happier.

And then this.

Everything is going to be taken from me within a short amount of time.

How am I supposed to get married in 9 months?

It's simple. I won't.

Getting married was always something I dreamed about as a kid, and now it's never going to happen because of the stupid tumor in my lung.

Stupid fucking cancer.

I don't want to die.

I want to have kids. I want to grow old and look at old photos and smile. I want to graduate high school with you. You promised we'd go to senior prom together and it has honestly been the thing I've been looking forward to most since you asked, "Alice Garner, will you go to the senior prom with me in two years?"

Yes.

But no, I can't, turns out life really does hate me.

I can't believe this is really happening. I can't believe I'm in a stupid hospital bed waiting for you to come and feel bad. I want to see you again but I don't want you to see me like this. Not because I look bad, which I do, but because if you see me like this you have to accept that I'm dying, and I will have to accept that I'm dying.

God. Just writing that gives me goose bumps.

I'm dying.

I'm dying.

I'm dying.

5:58 pm

Dylan, I'm scared of dying.

I think I'm going to give you this notebook soon. At least when I'm gone, you'll have something personal to remember me by and you'll finally know all of the things I was too much of a coward to say.

Surprise, I love you.

Make sure they play Bittersweet Symphony at my funeral because the best word that describes my life is bittersweet and I'm going to listen to it and close my eyes as I escape this sad world. It doesn't sound like such a bad way to go. Dylan, when you read this I want you know that you were the sweet part of my bitter life.