I wonder if it'll come to a certain point of just knowing that we're about to die, where our memories will reel through so fast and we'll and regret the thoughts that flash through our heads. Seriously, I don't know if I should be living at all, because I know I waste it day to day and hour to hour. I'm sure somebody else deserves this time so much more than I do, but that doesn't change me or make me move in a different way. I hate knowing that eventually I am more than likely going to come to a point where I hate myself for being able to think 'Why did I waste so many days just like today?'.