Every time George Michael comes on the radio, I think of Chris and the way Kimi and I screamed at him, tried to make him dance with us while we shopped for underwear in Marshalls. This, however, is not one of those times, because the Cure is what actually came on. I am dying, obviously. See the breathless lungs? See the clouded mind? Stiff limbs, stiff heart. It took me five hours of sitting around to realize that every second was one tick closer to oblivion, and another hour to accept the fact that I couldn't accept that. Or, I could, but it might be nice if I actually got up and had a shower first. Just for good measure, you know. No, this doesn't have a point. No hidden messages. I'm just bored. "I want soda, but no one wants to go to Wawa." "I can go." "You're not going alone. What if.. there was a fire?" "...Then I wouldn't die. And you would." She has bested me again. Sometimes I hate the fact that most of my sisters are smarter than I am.