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Recently, my physician told me that I had an acute liver infection that held the potential to spread to my heart. I began to ask him what I should do to treat and prevent this condition. He told me with a blank stare that for too long had I left the infection uncared for and that the damage it was doing to my circulatory system would be irreparable. I left his office in a state of confusion, for his last words to me would be, "You have at least three months and at most about two years." Only today did I begin to understand what he had said to me. Jokes and promises about me living and dieing or, "looking like I was going to croak" as opposed to "feeling much better" hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew that had to cry as much as I could today so that I wouldn't go insane at school. Yesterday and a few days before, I prepared myself to tell many of my friends and family that "I am getting better as fast as tomorrow and a few days after" to keep the fear of what might happen obscured. I'm having a fun time seeing my last sights, speaking my last words, playing my last video games, listening to my last songs, and fulfilling those last things we all have like New Years resolutions that just seem like a superstition. Unless I don't get to say so myself, " I love you, Sam. Thank you for every second of my life and every emotion that you gave back to me." We'll think up a tombstone in study hall tomorrow, kay? It's going to be a fine day tomorrow.