I’m not scared of death, Dad,” I told him. “I’m scared of not living. I don’t want to die with any regrets that I didn’t get to do the things in life that I’ve always wanted.

We’re not dead yet, so don’t talk to us like we’re about to be.

I just want it to stop. All of it. The pain. The suffering. The fucking cancer. I want it gone. I need it gone, Jean. It’s tearing me apart inside. God, I hate this. Even all the lying I’m doing to Parker. It’s breaking my heart.

I was pissed that I couldn’t go out and celebrate like someone turning twenty-one typically would, so I wore black hair to show my family just how pissed off I was.

You don’t need to be someone you’re not. Haven’t you learned that? Stop being scared and face the world. I know you’re not in remission yet, but who can say they have been through cancer twice and beat it? Confront the world, Aundrea. You’re alive. Be proud of the strong woman you are and stop hiding behind your wig.