I still worry about what others think about me. I still hope everyone likes me. I never want to be the villain in anyone's bedtime story. But in the heart of those desires is pride. My assessment of myself is based on 'goodness' not 'godliness' and if I must be truthful, like Paul, no good [...]
. . . if you can afford it.
What really would be my reason to give up on fighting for my life, if I wasn't already dead?