The sickness spread quickly, faster than even my mother thought it would. One day, I was perfectly fine and only moments later, a few days at most, I was bedridden, hooked up to more machines and IV’s than I could possibly count. Most teenagers don't ever have to go through something like this, the worst they deal with is broken bones and bad bouts of the flu, I guess that makes me unique. Sometimes I just sit in my bed and think about killing myself. I'm never going to get better, so why hang around for the few miserable months I have left. Being in the hospital taking treatment is only delaying the inevitable. The likeliness of me getting my strength back before dying isn't high, so it's me and this bed until my last moment.