Time we win, time we lose

Time we win, time we lose

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WpMetadataNoticePublikasi terakhir Sab, Feb 13, 2016
Which is worse I wondered. Physical pain or emotional pain? Something I've learnt about people is, if they do it once, they'll do it again. That why I, Nick Wade Andrews, have come to the tantalising conclusion of not trusting anyone. My whole forlorn life has pretty much been an immense joke, I've always harshly detested this self loathing revolting side I carry with me. As of late, I have let it take over as the alienation and social rejection has caused me to be an insecure submissive 16 year old doubtful teenager who wants nothing more than a thoughtless normal life. That was until I met the beautiful brunette sitting in my dead little sisters hospital room, room 16. She sat upright with her feet laying underneath the white hospital sheets. When she looked at me, I saw the most beautiful treen eyes that pierced though me and the walls I had put there to protect me. My first thought is I could totally love this girl. She has a very fine light brown hair that hung to her lower back with a curved nose and small lips. She had the most beautiful forestry green eyes with a surprising tan, unusual to someone in a hospital gown. Scarlet Hilda Brown, 16, diagnosed with angiosarcoma a tumour of the heart. This beautiful girl who seemed so down to earth, kind and carefree was being eaten alive from the inside. This wonderful girl was dying and no one can help her.
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So I have this thing. Some people would call it a catastrophe; some would call it heart breaking. It also has the name of disease, and heart killer. I call it just cancer. Simple enough as it is, right? Doesn't help that I already had it once before, it just came back to fight harder as ever. I thought it was over. Isn't it though? Don't you give up at that point? Senior year and I'm ready to end my life as a person all together. I'm tired of fighting and might as well give up because there are no chances of me living all together. So as a smart choice I move so when I die no one will know me or care about me. Wouldn't that be the logical choice? I don't want pity. Never liked, never will. So don't tell anyone I have cancer. Ever. Doesn't help that a boy started getting involved with me and snuck under my skin before I even realized what he was doing. What changed me were those few, simple words all together. "I'll love you till the end." That, that was about the time I started caring about life again. And it was all because of him.

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