My mother always told me to never fear death, even though death is a tragic thing… But how can someone keep calm, knowing they’re sick and dying inside, but there’s no pain and everything on the outside looks normal? My name used to be eZAH¯†cV but now its Ïž¾øý. I’m 21, and I have HIV. You’d think a pretty girl like me would have it all, but I’m only human, and we make mistakes. I’m not looking for love, because I had him, and sadly he failed me, straight into the ground where I still lay. I guess you could say things are not going as planned. I’ve managed to be comfortable with my new transition. I don’t let my tall height embarrass me any more since I have a pretty face, and I tell people I’m a basketball player… the perks of being 5’11.
Not many men are privileged enough to have lived a life as free and pleasured as mine has been. Once you decide to kill – and I don’t mean killing some pissant in a bar, or two old farts in a hold-up – I’m talking about deciding to kill anybody you want, anytime you want, anywhere you want, any way you want – once you get to that point, you set yourself free to live the best kind of life there is… By taking lives and making others afraid of me, I become God’s equal. Through killing others, I become my own Master… When they put me to death… I’ll die peacefully, because my name is going to live as long as men have memories… as long as they talk about good and evil.
I honestly don’t know where this ad will get me, but I can predict the messages in my head now, and all I’m asking for is a different message in my inbox. Married men with a wife and kids should stay happily married – so please no closed doors. I just want to find that one friend that will be okay with me dying next to them, with no tears.