which one is better, to die with slices of bleeding wrist or to be crushed by an elephant. indeed maybe just disappear like dew in the morning. when the sun comes, either you are ready or not, you are already in a part of history. that is kind of sweet. to disappear. completely in silent. 

all i can see is the light at the end of the tunnel is no more there. black pitch. i guess i am in the wrong tunnel. not yet dying but almost feel like a ghost. 

i hate when i am sick. i hate when people said i can not take care of myself. i hate when i need to puke every single things that i ate. i hate when i abuse myself to the point i just snap. i hate when i thought that i am crawling back from the fall. instead i am digging a hole. my own death.

pray that this feeling is just one of the effects of my treatment.

or some words of PMS bitch.