I've officially been checked into a hospital. I've even heard the nurses mournfully talking about me. They have even begun talking as if I'm already gone, but I'm still slightly conscious. I hang on to consciousness like a child holds on to their teddy bear as they grow old. I am broken and ill, but a part of me still wishes to live. It's an insane part, because I wish to be reunited with my love and be free of the illness taking over my bloodstream.