Please help me, for I am dying. This isn't a joke, this isn't even a figure of speech. I am dying. I am slowly wasting away. The sands of time are pouring over me and it shows with every gasping, wheezing breath I take. My lungs are shriveling, my skin is cracking. I am a living, walking mummy, though the former may not be true for much longer. Death looms over me like a blanket, and it pains me to say that the concept becomes more welcoming the longer I stare into its endless, perilous depths. I hate it, I abhor it, and yet I yearn for it. I am not long for this world. Please... help.