Weak Or Not Weak: 50 Days

Death does not scare me. The pain that might accomplish the named: Does. When my day comes, I want it to be quick. To spare the pain and end the suffering forever. Some people might see it as weak. You know, some folks think you should fight till the end. To tell you the truth, I don't give a shit. I never did. Fuck what they think! Weak or not weak? If you are dying and there is no hope left that you pull through it, why fight the pain and suffering? You're going to fucking die anyway.

I really, really want to hate you. But I just can't find a reason to.
The way you talk. The way you walk. The way you laugh. The way you act. It makes me sick to my stomach. Yet, there these few seconds now and again. They so small that if you blink, you might miss them. During these precious moment, I sense something different inside you. Something beautiful. Divine.

Sometimes when I'm bored and have nothing to do or I'm on the train waiting for it to pull up at the platform, I play with my mind. I imagine a ball or any sort of object. I try to make it move. Then I try to make it bounce or dance. When the object in my mind is moving to one direction, I try to make it move to the other. If the object in question in red, I try to change it into green. The little games I play with my mind; they are hard work. Maybe I should call them 'Mind Exercises'.