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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
In despair, what do you find comfort in?

Submitted: August 18, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 18, 2011




I don’t want to die here.

Though there isn’t much of a choice, is there? For the past three months out of my twenty-six years of life, this has been my home: the room with the high ceiling, so white and clean.

When I was younger, I dreamed of travelling the world when I retired after a long life of working hard at a good job that paid me handsomely. I convinced myself I’d save up all of the money I could in order to do so.

The days were long and dull. I passed the time sitting up in this bed I called my own for now, letting my face bathe in the sunlight filtering though the slightly open window, letting myself submerge into my own imagination and escape from this hospice reality.

There wasn’t really much else to do.

Sometimes I would go to France. I’d get irritated about the amount of time I have to wait in line to experience the view from the Eiffel tower. When my turn finally came, I’d shake in fear and excitement for I had never experienced heights such as these.

Then, I’d watch the city light up in Rio de Janeiro at night, and during the day I’d visit all of the beaches. I’ve been everywhere you could possibly think of. Twice.

But when I open my eyes, nothing really seems to change during these endless days apart from the occasional visitor, or the ever changing position of the drifting clouds, and the hands of the cheap plastic clock on the wall.

It’s a bittersweet metaphor, is it not? It’s not so terrifying after a while to think that each second that passes is one second closer until that clock finally stops for unfortunate me.

I huddled myself deeper into my sheets and closed my eyes in hope of sleep, just to pass the time. I didn’t want to keep thinking about death and whatnot. There was no use getting upset, after all you can’t change your fate. No matter how ill-fated you may be.


I was awakened from my dream of sea gulls on the beach of Cancún by the loud roar of an ambulance siren, maybe a block away from the hospital. It wasn’t much to wake me; I have been a light sleeper all of my life.

I sat up in my bed and squinted my eyes so they would adjust to the darkness, trying my hardest to see the clock on the other side of the room. The time was around 2:40- way past lights out, but I think that this sudden burst of energy would forbid me to sleep. Not like lights out mattered for patients of this particular ward.

This is where we are deemed beyond saving.

I slowly swung my legs off of my bed and stood up, grasping my chest in pain. It was an ache I was all too used to, so I continued to softly tread towards the door.

I closed the door as quietly as I possibly could, and tried to make as little noise as possible as I walked down the dimly lit hallways towards the lounge.

The lounge was quite large; it was kind of like a dining room with cheap plastic tables scattered across the room, merged with a small lounge in the corner consisting of a blue couch parallel to a flash TV which, to my surprise, was lit up with the volume turned all the way down.

It wasn’t often that I went for my little midnight walks across the ward, but never have I seen anybody else up.

Out of curiosity, I walked closer towards the lit up TV to see a silhouette of a small person sitting in the corner of the couch, eyes unyielding towards the TV.


The figure simply kept watching the TV, so I decided to take a seat on the opposite side of the couch to see what on earth was so interesting to watch with the volume muted.

As I sat down, I got a glimpse of the person’s face, an early teenage girl with a small face. She had darkened eye sockets that seemed to sink into her head.

“Hello,” she said, her eyes still fixated on the screen.

I couldn’t think of anything else to say so I simply started to watch the television too. It seemed to be one of those late night sitcoms, the kind my sister and I used to stay up and watch, just to be rebellious when we were kids.

“I think,” the young girl suddenly started saying, “We don’t need to die here.” Her unexpected statement surprised me, but I decided to humor her.

“Then what do you suppose we do?” I said, not expecting an answer.


She paused, as if she decided not to say whatever she was going to say next.

“There’s nothing we can do, I suppose.”

Then I wondered if this girl had been thinking on the subject of going places more than I had, but I didn’t press it any further because whatever that girl was about to say, we weren’t going to drive away into the sunset anytime soon. She probably gave up a long time ago.

So we simply watched the television in silence together.

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