Strange. I have been trying to revise for examinations I know I will not sit for. The endless repetitions of words flow into sentences; sentences form random paragraphs on pages after pages of a text with a title I can barely recall. I turn to the very last page of the book only to see a blank. I should have known. The symbolism of this knowledge that slips momentarily almost ridicules me.
The other day, I sat amongst the others in the lecture hall and the entire time, I was suppressing my laughter. It is funny, isn’t it; that nobody had the least vague idea that there was a dying person sitting in the midst of everyone else. I guess they who never looked Death in His face would never recognize Him even if I were to walk up to them.
I ask for no burial plot, no tablet. There shall not be a tangible place where people can go to, to exhibit various degrees of grief for my departure. I ask not for loved ones to commemorate this cowardly act of mine. After all, flowers and prayers, they mean nothing to the dead.
The doctor sums up the time-span of my future to a lengthy four months. I can almost perceive them pleading me to live life to the fullest, as best as I can. My past years of fleeting existence have been pointless, what more a period of a few months? Does it really matter, the last few footsteps that I will take, when there are many others ahead that I no longer can?
They will question. I expect them to, anyway. Yes, perhaps it does take courage to end your own life. But to live on, that takes another sort of courage all together. Courage not spawned from weakness, apprehension, hopelessness or desolation.
Almost. Yes, almost. A word I use over and over again. Almost lived. Almost did not succumb to this unrelenting illness. Almost had the courage. Almost believed I was immortal. It appears that I must have overlooked the fairness of Death, He who does not discriminate.
It is getting late, but I shall not rest. The sleeping state is no more endurable than the waking. In slumber, I often dream of embracing Death, who took your form, only to have you disintegrate in my hold. A vagrant must have cast me that dream. I almost want to smile though.
My yearning for Death is as intense as my longing for you. I cannot stop loving you. Yes, even if I try.
I looked out of the window just now. And I wasn’t quite sure if what I saw was paradise or an inferno of raging flames, that awaits me.
Take aim, and miss.
I remember how you’d place tulips at my doorstep. Perhaps one day, when you see fallen petals of withered tulips, you will think of me again. You may then realize the significance of the time when we sat side by side, not speaking. You reached for my hand and asked me what I was waiting for. And I simply smiled. You could never have guessed from my silence.