Just give me the pain that I'm used to!

My body is slowly but steady killing me. Not any romanticism around that, just hard facts of how I feel. From the moment I went up this morning, it has just gotten more worse for every second. No, I can't take painkillers, they would only make me an addict in the end, and I don't need that too. First off all, I have to repeat that I don't pity myself or don't want any mercy. Writing is therapeutic and I don't think about it afterwards, until it's reappearing again. But in all other states, I'm so fine that I can't believe my eyes, I could actually cry and still smiling... Hit me hard someone? Haha!

Death by a Hamburger by David LaChapelle
I hope my death will be as sophisticated...

Love
/Anna