Why do people always bring flowers when you're in the hospital? Yeah, they're supposed to make you feel better and happy but all they do is depress me. Sure they're beautiful when you first get them: alive and well and pure and sweet. . .but eventually they die.

That's why I hate flowers. They remind me of why I'll never get out of this stinking bed or this stupid hospital room. They remind me of why I'm here, that I've got death running through my veins and it's slowly killing me, why I'll never go outside again and feel the warm sun on my face, why I'll never get to go to Paris or Africa or get wrinkles for Christ's sake! I'm 23, yeah, I know I shouldn't want wrinkles but I'd still like to get them, experience them.

Oh poo. Now I feel like shit. I'm blaming the flowers when all they wanted to do was be pretty. But if I have to watch twelve more flowers wilt, wither, turn brown and gray, deteriorate and then finally die I'm going to scream.

It's such a downer to watch things die. I've had to watch my mother die, my brother die, my cat die and now I get to watch flowers die.

That only makes me feel bad for the others. I mean, if I'm so angry about stupid flowers, how do they feel? Hurt? Sad? Angry? Depressed? Great, now I'm depressed.

The flowers next to my bed only make me more depressed because I know I won't get to watch them die this time.

I hate flowers.