I could safely say to myself... "I've died a million deaths" during my childhood and also now in my young adulthood. "What a freakin' strange quotation! How could you die a million deaths if you can only live once?!" This question might fill into the minds of the general populace who would encounter this article. Terminal illness? yes, but I managed to survive... But... there are many givens I should present to the equation before finally arriving at the quotation above.

There were memories, strange ones, that seemingly haunt my thoughts into depression. Fortunately, studying psychology was a big boost for me to cope with it. Memories that stimulate stinging feelings of hate, hostile retorts, morbid thoughts, and pain; it happened everday and everytime; I declared to myself "I can't stop this nonsense" but at the least I can hide it from others. These feelings were caused by child abuse; specifically: my father clobbering my fragile body and telling me that I was a mistake and that no one needed me in this world, I wasn't supposed to be alive. And this happened for the rest of my childhood. I was wondering how I survived all those contraceptives and abortion techinques... heh, must be pure luck but mainly: I regret living this life, and my father made me regret a lot. Hardships that made me think there wasn't any God, and also thinking how fulfilling it would be to kill my father and kill myself.

OH! The terminal illness... it was anemia... I was in a critical state, the lack of blood, the hazed senses, the feeling of aloofness... typical, the contraceptives must have made my spleen irregular and that my thighs were weak because the bone marrow inside it was weak. Imagine a child even paler than Michael Jackson...yup...that was me. Surviving it was a big accomplishment for me, that feeling made me want to live life a little longer. And so here I am, in college, studying Bachelor of Science Nursing.

Why death I say? There were times in my childhood that my father nearly killed me from all of his clobbering, why he stopped? Because when he was losing himself he found me lifeless, not even a breathe escaping my mouth, not even slight bodily mechanisms that were unconsciously controlled. My soul? I could hazily remember standing in front of 2 gates, a dark gravel colored gate and a gold coated gate; inside the dark gravel gate was an environment, so gloomy and dark and that the ground showed famished cracks of soil stretching towards into Hell's

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