“There are worst things in this world than dying.” I would tell myself. I live every day waiting to die. Death would be a gift. For this to be over would be a blessing. Every day, I watch the sun rise again for the first time, or maybe the last. It’s strange to know that your life is over while you’re still living. My body fights for every move it makes, begging for strength, and still nothing. “Cancer” I say in my head over and over, such a small, yet powerful word. It makes my head spin every time. My body gets weak and my breath stops every time I think of what’s happening to me.