I think I have Ebola.

Last night I came across an article detailing the three signs of early Ebola: headaches, muscle pains (particularly shoulders and arms) and sore throat. ALL THREE OF WHICH I HAVE BEEN FEELING THE PAST FEW DAYS. My vision blurring with tears, I became overwhelmed with trepidation, thinking things: what would the people say? The pretentious people, those who continually call me a freaq every day bcus I'm butters and I don't eat butter? What song would be played at my funeral? Why isn't assisted suicide legal in Britain? Like my hero from to kill a mockingbird Madame Henry Lafayette Dubosé (she's not French but her names so amazing she might as well be), I wish to die with dignity - "beholden to nothing and nobody"... 

Also today I read in the telegraph that Ebola MAY BE IN THE UK.,,.,,.,, OMINOUS FORESHADOWING??

But then I think: if I only have nineteen days or so left, I'd think people deserve to chose when to die - I'd rather know when my passing of this mortal coil would be definitively than decay on a bed, watching my hair fall out, my lips crack and disintegrate, and the feeling of powerlessness. 

Being alive: it's the power of (choosing) death. 

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