Oh. Um. Hi.

I haven't blogged in a while, so I guess I'll just use a "confession" as a blog. Well, my life is...fine. I suppose. I wish I could be like everyone else and say "MY LIFE IS TERRIBLE. EVERYONE HATES ME. NOTHING IS GOING WELL FOR ME. I WANT TO DIE." but I know that's not true. Some things are going well for me..and those that aren't hopefully eventually will.
I suppose everyone wishes they would die at some point. To stop feeling strong emotions. To just float away into emptiness. But then you could no longer experience life.

I feel like a sappy motivational speaker when I say this, but I think people are like books. The world is the library. Why? Some obvious reasons, we have our outer appearance. And then the "story" is our personality and life. Not everyone will like you, not everyone will know you. To some, you are just a name. A title. We have high points, and we have low points, good points and bad points. We have our beginning, we have our end. But what happens when we, as authors of our own life story...die in the middle?

Our stories just end. It won't affect everyone. But some, they'll mourn wishing they could've known more. About the deceased's life. But then they move along, find new people, and forget. Nothing will stop that.

When I explain my story, it seems like it's from some stupid drama.
I thought my life was to become an adult, get a job, fall in love, raise children, and then just die with all the memories in between.
Apparently not.

Since about two year ago, I've been getting headaches, asthma and panic attacks a lot. I thought it was just hormones. Perhaps stress. Then I was proved wrong.

May 22, 2009. Monday.
I was getting ready for school, like any other day. I drank a cup of milk, ate some toast, grabbed my binder and violin and walked out of the house to the bus stop. While walking, I felt light-headed. I shook it off.
It's the morning, I'm always dizzy.
At the crosswalk, a woman in her van motioned for me to walk. The moment I stepped off of the curb was the exact moment it started. Everything clashed together. Asthma. Then coughing. I felt dizzy. Violent coughs turned to violent coughs of blood, thus starting the panic attacks.
How the @#%* my body does that, I have no idea.
The woman driver was already out of her car, asking me if I was okay. When I responded with wheezing and coughing she dialed 911.

Even though I was passed out for most of the time...ambulance+stretchers = lolwtf
Faintly in the back of my mind, I was thinking "911? Wow. Way to overreact lady. It's not like I'm dying."

Time passed. My mom sat beside me in the examination room, worrying like hell. Where was my dad? He works in another city. Couldn't make it.
"Mama, I'm fine. It's probably stress."
I knew I was lying to myself already.

The doctor entered the room and called my mom outside. The door closed behind them as they discussed whatever was wrong with me. I sat there in suspense, waiting.
Eventually the door opened. Then that's when I learned my life WOULDN'T be as I had planned.

I have heart cancer. And I'm not going to live to be an adult.

There. I said it. Finally.
None of my family's friends know. I don't want them to know. They'd expect me to drop dead any moment.
I'm not going to tell you guys how many years I'll live to be.
I wrote this because I feared I would go before I had a chance to say goodbye and thank you to you guys. This sounds so sappy, but really, thank you. I feel kind of stupid pouring my whole experience into this blog, but the attachment I have to ya'll as a society is just...

Live, laugh, love.
Don't waste anytime in between.

EDIT:
Pirky said that Sneha and Dee are going to cry if I don't include this:
I'm not 100% doomed to die. The doctors said that there's a 45% chance I can live a normal life span with some heart complications.
They found the cancer a few months after it had formed. Yes, I realize that I said I had symptoms since 2 years ago, but somehow it's only formed just recently.
Fingers crossed.