If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country less; and if to live, the fewer men the greater share of honour. Thou know it is common; all that lives must die, passing trough nature to eternity. I hold the world a loose as the world Gratiano; A stage were every man must play its part and mine is a sad one. Death never comes at the right time, despite what mortals tend to believe. Death always comes like a thief, suddenly and then all at once changes everything.
Like any girl out in the world we hope for some perfect guy to come, sweep us of our feet and live the rest of our lives in happiness with them. Even I am no exception to that wishful thinking. Though I should point out that not all the content of it is what I desire. In fact I hate the concept of 'perfect', which is because this always involves money and good looking people. I am not interested in those things, though of course it would make some things easier. But I do not want to go thinking that way since it will make me remind me of someone I do not want to be. All I am interested in is the person's personality, is he nice, is he sincere, is he fun to be around. Those are the things that are important to me instead. Like many people, around the time when they enter middle school some things will change. For me it was the realisation that I was spending time with people who could trade me for another one in any second. That's why I don't want to waste my time to even try for them to like me, I am better off alone like this. Some could see this is as an excuse for me haven given up, others see me as strong. I think both of them share a bit of truth.
I am neither a writer nor a genius. I am simply a person who is trying to express her gratitude for someone who changed her life by the means of writing this all down in a book.
Though the person I wanted to read it most is not able to...
Maybe this whole thing is just for me instead for him, a way of progressing of everything what happened. My head keeps remembering the past and my body has mostly gave up on living. Most of my food is being spit out seconds later it had entered my mouth. My blood is being poisoned by the amounts of medicine that is being given to me to so called keep me alive. But even if my body does recover, I do not know how my mind will. Right now I am being kept in a hospital in the psychiatry department. My school is being put on hold for now though by high hope of both the doctors and my parents they think I will be able to get to school next year. My reality however looks at differently. There were sessions day in day out, all about how the mind affects the body, that if you stay positive this eventually will all pass, that you should just...move on. I hear this stuff at an hourly basis and honestly it is sickening. Eventually I just refused to talk about my thoughts to my doctor. I just wanted to sleep. That's all I wanted. I hoped that somehow if I waited long enough I would be able to return the time before I met him, when I didn't feel anything. But the burning sensation in my chest proves otherwise.
One day when I woke up I saw that his family had come to visit me again. It existed out of both his parents and a older brother. His mother had a package with her this time. 'We found this in his room. It was addressed to you.'The mother said while giving it to me. I stared at the object for a while, wondering what it could be before replying with a thank you. They left quite soon, probably since this place didn't give many happy memories to them. I wrapped the paper and my eyes were met with two books, one big the other one small. The big one was filled with pictures of us, the small one was empty except for the text 'write down your thoughts'. I looked at the date on my phone, 19 November 2017 it said. I looked back at the two books now laying spread on my bed.
I guess this would make it a birthday gift...