My mind is strange. Here's what I wrote on my journal last night while floating in a sea of pain. Mind you, dental surgeries (and all other kinds of surgeries for that matter) are not easy. Especially the post-surgery care and the chaos and confusion of deciding what to eat to avoid foodbits from getting stuck on the wounds. I know. Gross. Anyway, here it goes, grammar misses and all:
What if I died? It'll be tragic on my part but nonetheless, everyone must die, figuratively and physically, and I believe that when that particular point in time comes, one must and should accept the fate with as much grace and confidence as possible.
Grace in a sense that one must die-considering the circumstances, like an impeding, expected death-like a teleserye goddess. Proper gesticulations and facial expressions must be aptly considered because no one likes to die ugly and one must prevent oneself from being so if one can.
The third paragraph I choose to not post since it's not really much of a paragraph anyway. Just an unfinished phrase about confidence. Anyway, to tie up this post with the title (which I just whipped a few minutes ago) I am craving for doughnuts. The Bavarian filled ones dipped in thick chocolate sauce. Urgh. If only my molars are well enough to eat.