Do you ever just get that... feeling? The bad one? I suppose I always have it. I mean, I'm a dying girl. I guess when you're dying, things can, well, change. I've just started noticing all the little things.

Like, fresh air. I only have 31 days to breathe it.

Fresh, soft green grass. Only 31 days to feel it under my bare feet.

Oh, and colors. Sounds. Tastes. For some odd reason everything tastes better but bland at the same time. I don't get it.

I want to live as much as I can before I die, if you understand that. Every day, I'll do something new until the day I die. 31 daring, crazy things, one per day.

That's how I want to be remembered. That crazy, daring girl. The one who died before she even turned eighteen.

That's what I want. Its my dying wish. And if I have it my way, it will be fulfilled. Bye for now, but it will be forever.