Sjetiska

They told me I would be dead by twenty. That's okay; I don't want to live my life counting sheep anyway. They tell me there is no god, and I accept the silence and the fact that I will never walk on the sky. I wake up every day at 4:09 am [the lights are always too bright] and they tell me every single time today's the day, today's the day you're gonna die.   The clock-radio is blinking at me furiously, yelling in my mother's shrill voice to get up get up, today is the day! Every morning it's the same. But today really is the day. It is two years before my use-by-date, but this stench has been following me. How do you spend your last wakin