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My Leukemia Relapsed When I Was 19

You’re lying in bed, under the covers, with your knees tucked to your chest and your arms folded under your pillow. “It’s the same.” You whisper to yourself. “It’s the same. It’s the same. It’s the same.”

Dear Lindsay Lohan, I Still Love You

The girl that always gets another chance. So here I am, begging you to count your blessings. Your dad takes too many selfies and your mom’s taken too many Xanax, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t still hope for you. You’re Lindsay Lohan, goddammit.

A Letter To 15-Year-Old Me, Post-Cancer Diagnosis

I want you to know, your mind will wander. Let it. You’re about to move into a hospital with four stark white walls, a bed, a TV set straight out of the ‘90s, and a slew of machines and monitors that will hum and beep endlessly through the night. You’re going to wonder “why you?” and then you’ll see the 7-year-old boy in the room next to you, with a brazenly bald head and a smile you can’t even fathom and you’ll wonder, “why him?”