Apparently, I am scared.

Before he came into my life, I was never afraid of death, I even waited for it to come. Challenged it, but death never accepted my deal. My life never became this worthy… Never. That was the reason why it was always okay if I would get sick. Even in simple headaches, I had been waiting for death to get me. Leukemia, cancer and the like were dreams I wanted to be true. Try to talk to me about death, and you would have either the best or worst conversation of your life.

Why should complications come after finding a reason to live longer? Now, I’m asking for a longer life.

I would always want to have a family: a husband with two children, preferably a boy and a girl. We would live in a simple yet beautiful house, and I would do things to them I never experienced with my family over here. But that was secondary, death was primary. Now it’s the other way around, well, not even. Death is not my option anymore.

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