Dear Cancer,

You son of a bitch. There, I said it. I called you a bitch. And, I stand by that. I cannot imagine a time in my life where any circumstance could make me take that back — you are always horrid, without exception.

You are a creep lurking in the dark. You always seem to attack without warning, it is an unfair game. You are malicious with your intent. I loathe your strength and your ability to draw tears at the mention of your name. I abhor you to the nth degree. I wish you nothing but harm, radiation, and remission. I want you to crawl back into whatever space you came from and die there — slowly and painfully.

What you don’t know is that although you often have the upper hand, you can be beat. You can be forced into remission and you will someday be able to be eradicated by a cure. Your days are numbered.

I am not sure how you sleep at night, but I hope you often feel the heat of my wrath as you drift off. I hope you have nightmares about me burning you alive and discarding your remains. I hope you toss and turn all night with that ominous feeling that you are no longer safe — not even in your dreams.

I wish you all the pain in the world and an ocean full of tears,

A.Tobias