Twelve Days

Day One

I looked down at myself and realized my hand was shaking. As always, I tried to focus on my breath but as I expected, the calming exercise wasn't helping. My hands trembling got worse with every second I looked at it. It was an image I very well knew. I knew that if I would try to move my fingers, it would cramp. As expected, my whole hand started to cramp and pain shot up my entire arm. With my other hand, I fidgeted my new pills out of the back pockets of my jeans. There were twelve pills. Six in a row. Slowly, I pressed one of the pills out of the packaging and swallowed it. It was my first pill. My first time bomb. In fact, the first one was the time bomb that set the timer. The final countdown of my life began. Looking down at my hand, I saw the cramp eased and the pain started to fade. That was harsh medicine, judging by the time it needed to operate. I waited in the kitchen for a couple more minutes, just to ensure my hand didn't start cramping again. As I felt the tension in my body be released I slid the pills back into my back pocket and left the kitchen. This was the last time in my life where I would lean on a kitchen counter like that. Those were the last ever minutes in my apartment. The kitchen, the bedroom, the living room... It was my home and it hurt leaving that behind, knowing that I am about to go on my last ever journey. Last night was the last time I slept in a proper bed. This morning was the last time I had a regular breakfast in my kitchen. It just felt weird and I honestly couldn't believe it. I couldn't process the thought of me simply being gone soon. Knowing the approximate day of my death. I suddenly found it hard to breathe and felt slightly dizzy but I knew this was normal. It was just the medication starting to destroy my body. I will die of a heart attack. How many people can say that about themselves? How many people know how and when they would die? It felt weird. Your cause, time and place of death was the only thing you for sure couldn't predict if you didn't plan to commit suicide. And I thought about that, yesterday. I thought about just ending myself. I thought about taking all the pills at once or to just burn them all. I thought about all of it, just because I felt like I wanted control over my own life. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that those twelve days gave me all the control I could ever possibly get over my life. People think about  their futures, the risks or consequences some actions might hold, they think about how their life would be going on. But if you don't have a life to go on, there really isn't much to think about , is there? When you have no future, you might as well just risk it all. And that's an opportunity almost nobody gets. 'I wanna live today because there might not be a tomorrow.', was what these people said, claiming to be fully free. 'I wanna live today because there is no tomorrow.', Is what I say while really being a free soul. I know whatever I do, it won't matter. Somehow, this was pressure dropping off my chest I never knew I had. Not worrying about consequences or anything alike, that's nothing anyone else will ever be able to feel. And it felt relieving. And if I was meant to die at the age of twenty-one, so be it. I was given the chance to watch twelve more sunsets, twelve more sunrises, have twelve more breakfasts, lunches and dinners, brush my teeth twelve more times, do my hair twelve more times, pick twelve more outfits I want to wear. When I packed my suitcases earlier, I knew that all those hoodies I packed might be the last hoodies I will ever wear. And it felt weird thinking about the outfit you will die in, just because it seemed so twisted. But who will ever be able to choose what their last meals will be? I will. And I will eat everything I would want to because whether I die fat or with a sixpack is really irrelevant to me. This morning I took my last shower at home. And now I grabbed my suitcase and my keys and locked my apartment door- for the last time in my life I was locking a door. "Goodbye.", I whispered and threw the keys into my backpack. And somehow, I felt ready for that last trip. And I knew as soon as I will step into that camper, I will make my way to death, travel towards my own ending. When we will leave New York, I know I will have left it forever. And I knew that Maroon Bells in Colorado will be the place I die at. Suddenly, I felt a slight pressure on my back. It was Alecs hand. "Ready to go?", he asked and I simply nodded. "Should I take your suitcase?", he offered but I shook my head and got it down to the camper by myself. Although those pills were killing me, they at least made the weakness go away. They made me feel like a man again. Like a usual twenty one year old, healthy male going on a roadtrip with his best friend. And that honestly was the only thing I wanted to feel like. Slowly, I dropped my suitcase into the camper. It looked cozy, I had to admit. Alec and I figured out our route yesterday- we would go to the Garden of the Gods, Colorado. From there, we will go to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National park and then go to Maroon bells which would be the place we would stay until I die. I have always wanted to do a roadtrip through Colorado and I was excited to fulfill my last wish with Alec. And sitting down into that camper hurt because I knew, Alec would have to drive back alone.