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Reflection from October 20th, 2008 @ Age 27


I think Dave was lucky.  I don’t feel as though life is a gift; I feel it’s a sentence from which I’ve been given no escape.  I almost wish I would get cancer so I could let it peacefully and silently kill me, and they could dope me up on all kinds of painkillers until the sweet light came forth and swept me away.  I think Dave was lucky.  He grew up without a care in the world.  Never had to worry about money.  Was always smart enough, more than likable enough.  Never had anxiety or depression.  He fucking failed the MCATS and do you know what his parents did?  They sent him off to Spain to study for a whole goddamn year.  He got to be selfish until the day he died and he got to die in an instant, hopefully and presumably without pain.  I think he was lucky.  I wish I could be so damn lucky.  I wish my luck would change and lead me to such a sweet and silent death.  I don’t think I could be so lucky, for I’m sentenced to life without end.