But I have a Christmas tree that I set myself and I'll cook dinner for 3 of my best friends. And I'm alive. Who would've thought that? Another year. I've made it. Last month was a very close call. Very close. I'm growing scare of my time coming to an end and at the same time I feel too tired to keep going. But I am alive. And I'm made of flesh and warm blood. And someone just touched this wretched body of mine. These burning tears. I don't want to go. I want to touch other bodies and maybe one day forget the empty space between my arms. And then maybe I'll be able to sleep in peace.
