It's utterly beautiful not to know my own edges.

All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

I said I wouldn't leave her.

I love you. I love you. I send this message through my fingers and into his, up his arm and into his heart. Hear me. I love you. And I'm sorry to leave you.

It's as if a child with a brush and too much enthusiasm has been set free with a tin of black paint inside me.

Every breath, every heartbeat, was one less until maybe things stopped hurting this much.

But all that is warm will go cold. My ears will fall off and my eyes will melt. My mouth will be clamped shut. My lips will turn to glue. ...No taste or smell or touch or sound.Nothing to look at. Total emptiness for ever.