I live life as if assuming I won’t live to have a long life, and I can’t remember the last time I didn’t think this way.
Every night I go to bed just slightly disappointed (some nights more than others), that I don’t have a fatal disease, and I wonder (and hope) my expiration date is nearer than I could imagine.
But my fear is that I’ll end up living a long life, because that would be just my luck.
Some people just weren’t made to live in this world long, and I really feel like I’m one of them. Or I hope that I am.