I was a simple man. A simple man with the worst luck. I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer at the ripe age of 24. There wasn't much I could do towards the end of my life. I had no family, and not many friends. I had always been somewhat of a loner. I liked it that way for the most part, or so I thought.
"I'm sorry to inform you that you have maybe 2 more weeks to live." Said my doctor with a guilty look. My heart sank to my feet. It felt like I had just died. "I'm so scared Dr. Way." I said paralized in fear. "I know. I'm so sorry that it has come to this. We've done everything we can. You do have 2 options though. You can either stay in the hospital hooked up to all these machines, or we can release you, and you can peacefully live the rest of your life." I had been more in than out of the hospital for the past 8 months. I kind of liked it though. I had people to talk to, I had become close with my nurses, and they were all such nice people. "Can I have some time to think about it?" "Of course", said Dr. Way as he left my hospital room. Leaving me with nothing but my thoughts and fears. I fell asleep crying that night, horrified by what was to come.
My grandmother died when I was 4 years old. All though I didn't really know her, I sometimes get the feeling she's watching over me. She took care of me because my mother was a drug addict. When she passed, I was sent to live with my mother. She had gotten somewhat sober by then, it felt like she had made a lot of progress, she always made sure I was fed, and we read books before bed. It was far from sunshine and rainbows though. She and her boyfriend would beat me.
I had always been a pretty feminine person. I would dress up in my mom's wardrobe, play with her makeup, and even ask for girl toys and clothes. They never liked it one bit, so I learned to hide it. But that did more harm than good. Around 12 years old, I would leave for school in the morning in my male clothes, change into my feminine clothes when I got to school, and change back before I got home. One day when I was 14 I got home from school and saw that my mom and her boyfriend weren't home. I decided to stay in my woman's clothes instead of changing. I was sitting on the couch watching tv when I heard the door open. I look behind me in fear, my mother and her boyfriend start screaming at me, calling me derogatory names, and beat me till I was unconscious. I cried so hard, pleading for them to stop.
I woke up in the same sickening white hospital room. Laying there tired as ever, one of my many nurses walked in. "Have you made a decision?" I thought about how sick and gross I felt out of the hospital. Although it wasn't always 100% amazing, not being hooked up to these machines made me feel like roadkill. They felt like home. "I think i'm going to stay," I said to her. "Alright, I'll tell Dr. Way and come back with your breakfast." She closes the door behind her. Pulling a beanie onto my cold, bald head, I get up to look out the window and watch the world go by.
"I don't love you like I did yesterday" The last words I heard come out of my ex-boyfriend's mouth exactly one month and 12 days before my diagnosis. "I'm sorry. I just need some time to figure out what is going on with me." He left my apartment, I sat there on my cigarette smoke filled couch in disbelief. All I could do was cry. I fell into such a bad depression I had hardly noticed the migraines. His name was Frank. He had always been there for me. He was my first and only partner. When he came into my life It was like a fog had been lifted. He helped me embrace who I truly was. Or so I thought.
The 2 weeks went by faster than I had expected. I would say time flies by when you're having fun but... As I lay there in my hospital bed, waiting for my doom, feeling more weak than I ever had before, I remembered a special memory from my childhood. Even though me and my mothers boyfriend never got along well, my favorite pastime with him was going to the parade every year. There was always an amazing band, playing their music live on a float. He would sit me on top of his shoulders so I could see them better. Despite how awful and traumatizing my childhood, that was the best thing to ever come out of it. I had once read in a book that when you die, you live your best memory. But, you're not truly living because you're dead.
Glued to the hospital bed that had become a part of me, I felt my breath get slower, sinking in deeper like a ton of bricks. I called for my Doctor and nurses. "Will you all please stay with me? I don't want to die alone." They all nod their heads solemnly. The main nurse held my hand, and as I took my last breath, the walls of the hospital room disappeared, and in front of me was the band from the parade, playing on their float, in what seemed to be a post apocalyptic world. Behind them, an army of people, dressed for the occasion, marching along to the beat of the drum. Intrigued, I follow. The song ends, and in the distance I see my grandmother. At last I am dead and unafraid.
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𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕!! 𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝! 𝙵𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙼𝙲𝚁 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚙𝚊𝚍. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝. 𝙰𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚖𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔! 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚁𝚊𝚢 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚘 𝚡 𝙷𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!
