Debut Albums and Bold Cracked Letters
Day 1
Yesterday I was told I had one week to live, which means today I have 6. Why only 6 more days? Because I have a tumor the size of a golf ball on the left side of my brain and it’s ready to pop like a white zit on an oily teenager’s forehead.
For the past 24 hours I’ve been moping around the lonely halls of my prehistoric home in a torn pink, scruffy robe and dark blue muddy slippers. I haven’t eaten much but it seems like that whatever I do eat ends up on me not in me. I’m depressed. Why? My time is up and the worst part is I know about it. Normal people have an unexpected death but not me, I know when I’m going to die and that terrifies me. It’s not the fact that I’m going to die that scares me, it’s the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the afterlife.
Day 2-5 I was never much of a church goer, probably because the old lady, with the white hair and peach fuzz above her lip, always “fainted” when the pastor walked by, sending the rest of the congregation into a fall. I fainted not because of the Holy Ghost but because everyone else did. So what did that mean for me? Was I going to be condemned to hell for all eternity for lying? For pretending to believe? Or will it just be black with nothingness? The thoughts of my mysterious afterlife lingered in my head for 4 days, which leaves me with 2 left.
I sat and I watched the window, I watched life grow outside and thought of how much I would miss the green leaves turning orange, red, and brown in the month of September and how the fall trickled into the cold mist of the winter.
Day 6 I woke up remembering I had one day left, one day. I sat up out of my death smelling lazy boy and realized that I couldn’t stay cooped up in my grey, 4 walled home all day, I had to get out.
I stepped out the house for the first time in the past 6 days. I wore the same old robe splattered with my dinner from the night before. I stuck one raggedy blue slipper out the door at a time and climbed out into
Yesterday I was told I had one week to live, which means today I have 6. Why only 6 more days? Because I have a tumor the size of a golf ball on the left side of my brain and it’s ready to pop like a white zit on an oily teenager’s forehead.
For the past 24 hours I’ve been moping around the lonely halls of my prehistoric home in a torn pink, scruffy robe and dark blue muddy slippers. I haven’t eaten much but it seems like that whatever I do eat ends up on me not in me. I’m depressed. Why? My time is up and the worst part is I know about it. Normal people have an unexpected death but not me, I know when I’m going to die and that terrifies me. It’s not the fact that I’m going to die that scares me, it’s the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the afterlife.
Day 2-5 I was never much of a church goer, probably because the old lady, with the white hair and peach fuzz above her lip, always “fainted” when the pastor walked by, sending the rest of the congregation into a fall. I fainted not because of the Holy Ghost but because everyone else did. So what did that mean for me? Was I going to be condemned to hell for all eternity for lying? For pretending to believe? Or will it just be black with nothingness? The thoughts of my mysterious afterlife lingered in my head for 4 days, which leaves me with 2 left.
I sat and I watched the window, I watched life grow outside and thought of how much I would miss the green leaves turning orange, red, and brown in the month of September and how the fall trickled into the cold mist of the winter.
Day 6 I woke up remembering I had one day left, one day. I sat up out of my death smelling lazy boy and realized that I couldn’t stay cooped up in my grey, 4 walled home all day, I had to get out.
I stepped out the house for the first time in the past 6 days. I wore the same old robe splattered with my dinner from the night before. I stuck one raggedy blue slipper out the door at a time and climbed out into