I’m not going to bore you with my whole life story, it has no significance. I’m not one of those people who has a depressing story behind them, or a whole reason they need to live. Everyone wants a story to tell, no one wants to just be a person. They want something to show for their life. I guess I’m different from everyone else, in the sense that I don’t see the point in leaving my mark on the world. I don’t understand why people are so obsessed with being remembered. Don’t get me wrong, it is sad when people aren’t remembered at all, but that barely ever happens. I want to be missed dearly by my few family members and friends, rather than by a whole bunch of people who know me for something I did, not who I am. My name is Anna Jeanne Murdock, I’m fifteen years old. I was recently diagnosed with Lung Cancer. Fatal? Yes. That was the first time I’ve ever seen my dad cry, when I was diagnosed. My mom cried too, but it didn’t bother me too much, we don’t get along very well. Something about seeing my dad hurt tears me apart. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he doesn’t deserve to get hurt. Let alone by his own daughter. Everyone keeps hugging me and telling me it’s not my fault, but it is. I mean, obviously I had no control over whether I got cancer or not. I can’t help but feel guilty that I’m causing too many people too much pain. I don’t want my dad to have to wake up every morning and leave for work wondering if he’ll ever see me again, I don’t want my best friends to feel that the next time we see each other could be the last. It just seems like such a heavy burden to put on people. I think I’m pretty normal, I live in the normal state of Massachusetts, I live in the normal town of Abington, I go to a normal highschool, with normal friends, and teachers, and jocks, and bullies, and nerds. I am a nerd by the way, not that it matters. I tend to bore people with facts that no one cares about. One time I went to a convenient store to buy a pack of gum, “That will be one dollar, and nineteen cents,” said the cashier. I said, “That would be three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies. That is the largest amount of money you can have without being able to make change for a dollar.” Then the cashier just looked at me weird, and I immediately regretted saying it. That’s usually how my days go. I have to stop regretting things so much, I don’t want to die regretting anything. That is such a frivolous thing to say, everyone dies with regrets. I guess I mean that I want to die happy. To be honest, I don’t think endings are all that happy. Shel Silverstein said, “There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, so just give me a happy middle. And a very happy start.” I’m not sure my start is very happy, but the rest of my middle can be. There is a few things that I want to do before I die, number one being to have a boyfriend. Which I’m actually kind of afraid to do because I don’t want to fall in love with someone, then break his heart by dying on him. I would be leaving a mark then, but only a scar. That’s more unwanted than any other mark you can leave. Today is my first day back to school since I was diagnosed. I’m not planning on telling anyone quite yet, my mom has to tell the school. So I can “drop out” to stay home, and do chemo, or whatever. I do not like the fact that I’m going to inherently be a drop out. My dad promised me he’d get me a tutor, or something.