When I wake up almost everyone is sat around my bed, looking worried, all apart from dad. Finn stands when he notices me blink a few times and grabs my hand comfortingly. “Hi.” I say with a weak smile. Mum stands up too and strokes the hair away from the front of my face. I try to sit up but mum tells me not to. “What’s wrong?” I say, everyone’s faces are grim and not the normal worried grim, the deadly grim.
“The doctor said that the fluid is really building up.” I nod. That shouldn’t be a problem, I am here for that exact problem and to get my lungs drained of fluid. “But at an alarming rate.” I nod again and as I do I irritate my lungs and cough angrily. Why can’t I just kill myself now? Why do I endure all of this pain?
Finn strokes my hand and it comforts me but that is what makes me tear up. I want to thrash my arms around and just hit something, to release the anger inside me. “Why does this have to happen to me?” I shout as I shove Finn’s hand away angrily. I know he means good but it infuriates me when people try to help me. Is it going to get me better? No.
I stare around at the shocked faces. I rarely ever get mad over my illness but I am being pushed over the edge. My tears are trickling down my face as I say, “I just want it to end.” Mum gives me a hopeful look. I don’t think she understands what I mean. I want there to be blackness surrounding me but she probably thinks that I will try to go on, but I don’t want to. I want to die.
The nurse strolls over with a syringe. She places it into one of the tube and says something to me but before I can even formulate the words I am knocked out.
When I wake I don’t feel the drowning feeling, what a relief. It is dark outside now and the window is all I can focus on, my eyes are blurry and fuzzy and my head hurts but the drowning is gone.
Finally I can move and turn my head to look around, no one is here. The hospital closes visiting hours around eight here so it must be late. Mum wouldn’t have gone home; she will be in the waiting room until she can see me again.
I pick my phone up from the side table and check to see if there are any messages. One.
I thought I’d drop a text. ~Dean.
His name is Dean then. Either that or some random guy has just texted me and I don’t give out my number to just anyone, that would just be plain stupid. And I don’t have much time to be stupid, but I have time to be rebellious, reckless and text the new guy.
Well, thank you for that amazing text Dean. I am bored out of my mind. ~Dee.
And then I stick the phone back on the bedside table and stare up at the ceiling. Ceilings are pretty boring, you can get patterned ones where they use different brushes but I think that not many people even appreciate ceilings so what’s the point?
Some people tell me that I over think everything that I do and I may believe them. My teachers tell me that I am ‘different’ and at one point I just thought they meant because of my medical condition but I think they mean that I am weird.
Have you ever read The Perks of Being a Wallflower? Well when I read that book I felt like I connected with the main character, Charlie. I suppose that is what my teachers mean by ‘different’.
Charlie didn’t have any friends and then he met some. I already have friends but the way that Charlie feels. He feels depressed and so do I. But he has ways to deal with his depression, but I don’t. I can see no way out of my eternal life and it makes me feel worse.
Others may tell me that there are worse lives out there and that I am just whining about how bad my life is but you aren’t in my shoes and that is what angers me when people tell me I am whining. You are not experiencing what I experience.
The way I feel is something that I don’t think anyone else has experienced. And I feel alone with my depressed thoughts. I have read online where people have told depressed people to call a hotline but I don’t want to talk, there is no time for talking.
My phone beeps and I struggle to reach over without crying out in pain. It is Dean again; who else would it be in the middle of the night?
What are you up to?
I find that small talk can be nice sometimes, especially when you have just met someone. The internet is a good way to get in touch with people.
Lying in a hospital bed.
I send the text before even thinking about what I was saying. That would be the kind of text I would send to Finn when I was in hospital, not something I would tell someone as soon as they start talking to me. I don’t want to scare Dean off.
Before I know it I am sleepy again and I can’t even move my phone to read the text I just received before the darkness engulfs me and I am paralysed in a deep and horrible sleep where I know the dreams of death and pain with greet me with cold arms.
I wish I could just die and not endure this terrible pain with spreads over my body every day of my life. The pain and the endurance of seeing my loved ones cry over my pain makes me feel bad and it should just cease.