Lost, Lost, Lost

Into the sea, you and me, all these years and no one heard. I'll show you in spring, it's a treacherous thing, we missed you hissed the love cats.

The Cure was playing loudly in my mind, trying to keep myself distracted from this awful world collapsing under my feet. With all the coping skills I learned in this hospital, I didn't learn a thing about coping with a disease. Coping with AIDS. I'd heard once that it's the worst disease to get from having sex, mostly because it didn't have a cure.

Ugh, I was trying to stop thinking about that, I thought to myself. But unfortunately it wasn't working out for me, like usual. Like... all the time that I've been living. Nothing had ever worked out for me. Maybe it was selfish to think about but I couldn't help feeling as though life was a joke. Maybe having this disease would be okay. I'd die sooner, and I'd have an excuse rather than saying, "I tried to commit suicide."

And the worst part is before it gets better we're headed for a cliff, and in the free fall I will realize I'm better off when I hit the bottom.

Words from Paramore, so true at this moment.