Jul. 4th, 2012

fabrecation: (Story of my life)
[It's so bad now that Luke feels like he can barely get out of bed except for necessary needs. It's... honestly kind of strange. Sure, he's scared, and sure, he hates having to lay here and just wait for it to happen, despite writing and drawing to pass the time. But he isn't quite as terrified as he was just a month ago.

It's like he's accepted that this is happening in a quiet, somber sort of way.

There's pain every day, he's tired every day, he's thin and pale and looks as if he's just wasting away, as if he's all that's left after tiny pieces of himself slowly just... faded away. Even his hair seemed not quite as full as it ought to be.

He hated it, yes. But it's happening. And he's close to fading away completely, he knows that. Maybe that's why he's mostly okay with this. It can finally be over.

He'd only flipped through the journal to keep track of everyone. Now, though, he can't help being morbidly curious, in a way. So, making sure that he himself is out of sight, he writes slowly to the masses.]


If someone told you that you didn't have much longer to live, what would you do about it? What would you do with the last days of your life?

[It's a question that could be asked even by a curious healthy person, something to get people to think. He can think of it that way, and get answers that he might just need because of it.]

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[replica model] • LUKE FON FABRE

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