Relief

It's not suicide! I can't die during the surgery! Hahaha, you can't believe how happy I am to have realised that! It's like a weight has been lifted from me, I'm free. Really hope that tormenting anxiety will calm the fuck down now. Seriously, I've come to believe in fate rather strictly, and most certainly my own.

I've always known that I will die from suicide, not in an accident or something medical. It will be fine, it will be alright. I am gonna live to see the result, the spring and the summer, my hair in that light silvery blonde shade I want, continue flirting with my love and hopefully we'll get together. The point is, I'm not gonna die, and I don't want to.

I haven't mentioned this before, but I've had major anxiety over the fact that I thought I was gonna die during that surgery then 10th. But as you see, that swept away in a heartbeat. Literally.

So maybe all that was just a reality check, to see how much I really want that surgery, and if I really want to live. And I do, damn I do! That I really could risk my life for it, is also kinda clear. But I haven't quite understood how the hell I thought around that, cause if I'm dead... then what good would the surgery do?

Maybe... that if you're willing to die for a cause you're willing to do anything else as well. Things you'd never do otherwise. Like quit smoking, cutting and taking pain killers when you're in so much pain it's searing through your every thought. When fighting against two addictions at once with horrible anxiety tying knots in your stomach from morning to midnight. And you still do it, cause you have to, and in the end it's worth it.

After weeks of torment of mortal fear, I can finally breathe out in relief, cause I'm not gonna die. Damn neat, that prophecy. At least in this situation. I'm practically immortal, knowing that everything I go through until I off myself I will survive. Don't worry, I won't test that theory. It is what it is, and it take its words for it.