It's been six years since I've gone a best time in the 50 and the 100, five for the 200. I thought I could live with diabetes. At the time I didn't think it would be that bad. It has a funny name. My mom cried in the hospital room when my parents got the news; my dad even sounded haggard, beaten up almost. They thought I was being brave. I was just naive. At thirteen I couldn't fully comprehend my health. And I didn't think it would effect my life too much. A few shots here and there, and I'd be fine. I didn't know it would cause me to stop improving physically, that I'd gain weight and that my eyes would lose their focus. I was only thirteen, I would've had a great career left. I was so motivated to keep improving, I forced myself to go to doubles. I was only thirteen. I don't know why God or genetics would choose to be so merciless.
I'm nineteen and I'm dying. And I'm fucking upset.
1 comment:
We all start dying before we are born.
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