Chapter Text
I hate it.
I hate my body. I can move, but every second its like hammers are pounding my bones into dust. To breathe is to swallow nails. I hate it ever so much. I have but a few years to live, but why must I survive that long? Why did god let me be born? I would kill myself, but I am too scared. I hate myself, I lay in a bed all day suffering, waiting for my fate like some helpless child. I should be in college now, should be thinking about my future career, should be dating, drinking, partying... living. I am terrified of death, but I am already dead. Death could not possibly be worse than this.
A nurse wheeled in my lunch for today. She poured the soda herself. I lost any strength I had. Its horribly pathetic how frail I am. Opening a can of soda is too much for me. I see through the nurse's kind smile. I am just a corpse in line for the morgue, a pathetic waste of her and the hospital's time. The worst part is that my disease only weakens me. I can leave this place whenever I want. I could live my live in pain but free. I could, but the pain is already unbearable enough. The small amount of comfort I have in this bed, seeing out the window onto the courtyard, watching shows endlessly is enough for me. I can die mindlessly, away from the world.
To be swallowed hole into that pit of darkness. A world without pain. Will there be something there, after all the suffering? How many more times could I close my eyes before I don't open them again? I moved the bed up so that I could eat my lunch. It was soup and soda. My teeth were fine, well they were fine once. I don't shower much, hygiene seemed... a waste. I feel bad rotting in front of the nurses though, so I do whatever I can. Showers I have to do sitting. The hot water against my skin is a rare soothing experience, but the chill my body experiences getting out of the shower keeps my bones aching for hours.
I don't sleep much... Well, all I really do is sleep. Sleep is something that happens to me when my body gives up and rests. The longest I have gotten without being waken up by horrible pains was five hours. Sometimes I wake up to the morning sun, those days seem to be getting rarer though. I eat the soup, its kept warm, but never too hot. The soda is whatever they have laying around for me.
I used to not be like this. I was a kid once although its hard to remember it now. Then I started feeling pains. Growing pains the first doctor said, a bad diet the next one said, "you are going to die," the last one said. I wish that was the worst thing he had ever told me. Life ended for me after that. The pain only ever got worse. Walking eventually became laborious and painful. The looks I got riding around in a wheelchair in school was not fun. I learned never to make friends in this place though. It turns out a lot of them have less time than me to live. I find myself envious of them sometimes. Through the tears of hearing about the deaths of the only people close to me, I keep crying because deep down, I wish it had been me instead.
"You won't die any faster," the doctor said. The worst words I have ever heard. I could try coping with impending death, a date in which my suffering would cease and the heart ache I caused would be instead be mourning. But no, there was no path forward towards closure. I cannot even walk myself to the afterlife, no, I am slowly carried there, chained to bed of nails.
I hate it.
I hate myself. The feeling of loathing and self pity disturbs me. I have years to live, surely I have it better than those who die before me... right? So then, why do I feel like the world is against me? Why do I feel my suffering is uniquely horrible? I know its not, but every day it gets harder to know how others feel. Its in the moments where I escape into my thoughts where the pain subsides a bit. You know, it doesn't hurt all the time. I took a walk today. I got up from my bed and walked up and down the hall. Soon I will be able to check myself out of the hospital. I can go home and wither away. At least then no one has to be bothered to look after what is already dead. If only I were dead.
I turn on the news. Another devil attack. How many dead? They seem to still be trying to find bodies. I should probably stop watching the news. Everyday its just endless tragedy and bleakness. Devil attack leaves a dozen dead or injured, people jumping in front of trains, another politician using hate and racism, some rich person getting away with murder... I always wonder if I would have the courage to jump in front of a train. Probably not, the train line stops when that happens. Ending my life isn't worth making so many people's days somewhat worse. Jumping off a building would mean people would see it happen or at least have to find my body. That's unfair to whoever finds me and to whoever has to clean me off the street.
I can't swim so maybe I could jump off a bridge. Water is scary and it would probably hurt. The nurse came in and took my empty bowl and cup away. The news had moved onto weather so I changed the channel. A few channels up and it seemed I caught a horror movie halfway through. Whichever one it was, I didn't recognize it. It bored me. Every part until one of the characters died. I hated it, the only time I felt something was seeing someone die. I turned off the movie and switched to some talk show. I muted the tv and laid back in my bed.
I thought of praying, but to what I wasn't sure. I did say a prayer though, a short one. Maybe it will ease this everdark decay that twists my body.