Lost
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Jul 11, 2018
I was suppose to die. I was suppose to feel my body shut down and feel the air leaving my lungs. I'm suppose to feel proud of that. Thankful that even though I hadn't died, there's still a 50/50 chance I will. Why would anyone be thankful for that? I wanted to die, that's all I can say on that matter. I wanted to be killed by the giant cancerous mass pressing aganist my frontal lobe, I wanted it to kill me. Key word: wanted.
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#25
cancerpatient
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"I'm sorry, James. The tests were positive. You have cancer," the doctor said. In that moment, I felt my entire world crumble. Everything I knew, everything I loved, I would have to say goodbye to. How was this even fair? I'm 23 years old, I haven't lived yet, haven't experienced much, and yet I was going to die. I might have just given up completely if it wasn't for her. She is the only reason I am still alive, yet she can't know of my disease. She can't know anything. I just have to pretend that everything is going to be okay before I have to say goodbye, before I run out of time.

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