I have been quiet.

I was in a hospital. I thought I was dying. In fact, I still may be on that road because I left the hospital before I was “all better”. Even now, I’m struggling. But what do I do when inexperienced doctors or doctors that don’t care just want to cut me open?

I had no pillow, just a hard bed. I rolled up my hoodie so make some kind of support. Big dig, right? When you have metal holding your neck together it is a big deal. The kind that can cut the feeling to the rest of your body in an instant.

And for a while, I wanted that. Pain is your friend as long as it’s the reminder you’re still alive. But when pain becomes your enemy, the taunting that you’re still alive?

I am holding on right now. My organs just don’t want to work. I’m so close to putting out this novel. I may not finish the rest, the whole story. I may not even finish this one, with the edit. So close.

I don’t even know why I write this, if not for maybe become a blip on the world’s radar.

Signed, Somebody that was here


One thought on “Death

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