And yet another day

I´m still here.
But taken again a couple too much of the stuff.
I am sick.
really sick
Not only in my brain and heart, but sick in the way doctors says "operation" and "quimioteraphy"
I might not reach my 30th birthday.
It´s terribly silly, but right now I wish I knew what love and being loved is.
I´m a little scared, my anger is bigger. That´s the only reason I know I won´t die. Beacuse it has never been easy. Not even dying.
But I´m here. I have my doubts. I guess in the bottom of my heart, against all reason I´m waiting for Darcy to come and take away the pride from me.
So, could somebody tell me I´m pretty?