I’m pretty tired of it already. I’ve been spending so much time trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. Not even for myself. Because people I love notice things are wrong. So I go to the doctor, time after time, and I figure eventually they’ll have to stop having bad news, right?
Because there can only be so much that’s wrong. Right?
Every time a new test.
I started dying the day I was born. I just didn’t think it would come so fast. Right after I find happiness, suddenly my body wants to just stop.
And I’m tired.