Terminal

Terminal. That is what my life has come down to. One word. One year. One choice. At the age of eighteen I’m told I have one year to live. I remember in school my teacher’s favorite question to ask was, “if you had one year to live what would you do with it?” I never thought about it. In truth I never thought I’d have to think about it. I always thought I’d get married, have kids, grow old then die happily in my old age. Never in my worst nightmares did I believe I was going to die before my nineteenth birthday.

Well so much for that, because here I am. Eighteen years old and at the end of my road. So I thought about it. What would I do if I had one year to live? And the answer I came up with is simple.

Everything.