The day I died

I am going to die. Not when I'm old, not because I want to and not by accident. I'm ill. I have maybe a year left to live if I am lucky, part of that year will not be particularly pleasant and I will be spending much of the time in a bed, being spoon fed and my bottom wiped. Taken to my newly installed disabled bath and generally not being able to fend for myself. It is unlikely I will be very aware of my surroundings in my final months and I do not suppose I will have my wits about me in the slightest so you may have to excuse my ramblings in later writings.

Actually, I'm already dead.

What you are now reading is my diaries. This is the first of many I am going to write and I have asked a good friend of mine to release them in order to an online blog once I have passed away.

Which I now have.

So, why? Why am I doing this?

Well, I am not old. Barely 30. And I do not want to die just yet. By the time I do I will be 31 or so, I hope. I am not ready to die; I want to live, explore and enjoy the freedom of the air that surrounds me. But I know this is not going to happen. Instead I am going to live on for a while through my diaries. My spirit it contained within these words and I am not ready to let go just yet. I am here now, alive and well, still talking and still communicating to people. Please, just hold a thought for me, if just for a second. Think about me on your way to work, just once. And mention me to a friend, please. Then I can just live a little longer.

Thank you.