Being deathly ill puts things in perspective.
People bring flowers,
And give hugs,
And try and start up conversations that they never bothered having before.
People only care when you’re dying.
They didn’t care enough to ask how you were when you were healthy.
No one bothered to call and try to talk.
No one sent flowers and give hugs.
No one cares unless you’re dying.
And then they suddenly act as If they are entitled to your things.
As if you owe them something for showing up to your deathbed.
I guess there is two types of people.
People with a killing sickness.
And people with a greed sickness.