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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Dear Diabetes,

No need to tell you who I am because you obviously know. I suppose you were giddiously laughing and dancing about when I came to know you, "oh yeah another victim to my list, welcome to the club loser." No doubt the fear I felt at what that Commander in the Naval Hospital emergency room said made you feel glorious didn't it?"

Well allow me to tell you something pal. If it was your self-pleasing design to see me fall apart and pray for death? You can go to hell.

I'm not one to quit so simply given the line of my family, all angry Irish people who spoil for a good rock throwing mixer. You see we love life be it at 40, 80 or 105. To shoot down your boat mister, all my old relations lived to 105 and I like being around a while so sit tight for a long siege you son of a b*** because as you came to play, I brought my fricken bat!

I refuse you. I refuse to give an inch to you. I refuse to pay you lip service. I refuse to let you take me so simply. Life is not to be given cheeply nor tossed away simply nor given away without a fight and bastard you got a fight on your hands.

I've lived a martial life all my life from the time my Navy dad held me for the first time till I left the service I loved. I'm still good at following orders and when I was told to give you hell then hell you will have.

I shall win, I shall send you to the hurt locker. I shall grow stronger because I still have things left to do in this life and jerk my list is rather long so you can just kiss the dark side of my moons because I have no time for your stupid bull.

Now that we've introduced ourselves Mister Diabetes? Meet my damned baseball bat!

Yours truely, and you can go to hell.

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