My first lucid memory is being told by a doctor that I probably wouldn't live to be 20.
He thought he was doing good, telling it to me straight (at the wise age of 8)
I have been waiting to die ever since.
It leads to much melodrama,
and sadness,
and acute not-giving-a-shit.
I don't know why I'm NOT dead,
but I'm not.
And I have no idea how I feel about that.
I have been convinced of my imminent death many times
four entubations, two respirators, a heart attack
and about a thousand asthma crises later
Still dying, never dead.
Have a nice christmas, world.
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