For weeks and months, people have been telling me things that I already know. Well, guess what; I already know those things.

My odds are abysmal, but as soon as I give up, as soon as I walk or run or crawl or swim away, my odds will reduce to zero. Can't have that. No way. Can't wait this long and come this far and then just quit.

This is my choice.

I will have my regrets, certainly, but never again will I have to ask myself, What if I'd tried harder? What if I'd given it everything I had? What if I'd laid everything on the line?

Fuck that. No regrets. Not this time.

I have done and said everything I could do. I've been totally, almost painfully honest. I've been loyal and attentive and generous and caring. I've given every ounce of my being to this, and there's only one thing left that I can do.

Wait.

I still have some patience left, believe it or not. Sometimes it wears thin, and sometimes it even seems to run out completely. I always seem to find a reserve, though, welling up from some dark place that I didn't know existed.

Good things come to those who wait, huh?

Well, I'm waiting. Been doing it for a very long time now.

People keep telling me things that I already know.

This is my choice, to wait.

To die trying, or to simply die? Or, perhaps, to live?

This time, if I die again, this time I will do it standing up.