dear diary
this is my forty-first week in high school and i feel the hand of death.
i act calm, but i am terribly afraid.
knowing that I can no longer run barefoot in the woods in search of strawberries.
and paint in the rain, hands coloured.
all because... I lose the fight against cancer.
dad: i'm a few minutes away!
me: are you really? all these years?
dad: i'm sorry, my dear!
me: excuses don't keep me alive, dad!
dad: i know that!
me: but... i-i... i-i love you!
dad: i love you too!
YOU ARE READING
Fallen Girl
Short StoryMary's dead. But she's still breathing. That's the problem. TRIGGER WARNING: DEADLY DISEASE, HARD TOPICS LIKE DEATH AND HEARTBREAK!!!
