Dear Diary,
I've recently become very depressed, the love of my life, Augustus is closing in on himself. I can't help but want to cry, it's what happened to me when I first found out I had this wretched cancer, it's destroying my life, bit by bit; the tissues of my body degrading by the second, ready to let go and begin the slow, ravaging process of decomposition. In the long-term, my purpose in life is to die. I know it sounds demented and frankly depressive, but it's true and it's all I've got to live for, knowing that one day, I'll die and I'll be free of this wretched cancer; free of phalanxifor, and free of the woes of the children's ward and the medicinal white coats, flailing past my hospital bed as I drift in and out of conciousness. But most of all, I'll be free of the never-ending struggle to carry on, the lungs that suck so much, it would be more efficient to put two balloons in between my ribcage and attach them to the stumps where my lungs once were.
It's a never-ending swimming feeling, drowning in the fluid that my body secretes, every corner of my body, clinging to life with metaphorical claws that are nearing breaking point. My mind, struggles to keep a bright perspective as it is, but after that altercation with Van Houten, it seems to me like there isn't really any point in me continuing to live in this stupid little world. But I cling onto the small hope that there'll be a miracle and I'll be told that the cancer I have is somehow curable and I'll leave the hospital, the first survivor of this bitch of a disease, because I know, that as soon as my heart stops to beat and my lungs inflate for the last time; that's it. Because after years of pondering why any God would cause this much pain to a single person, I've realised that I'm just a mutation of the average human, an experiment gone wrong, a prototype to show what the future could be like, but not the final production model. So for me, there is no God, no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel and no hope in death, for death is like life for me, numb, painful and without reward.
Signed,
Hazel Grace