September 15, 2071

‘Sleep has always been a personal failing of mine. It is not normal to stare at the ceiling for hours on end, eyes somehow not tiring of watching the white ceiling-fan overhead. The cyclic motion does not bring pause, it does not bring respite - they say counting sheep helps - you don’t know how many times I have heard that. But if the ceiling fan can’t put me to sleep, then sheep have little chance. 

The beeping doesn’t help either. It’s constant but it is not consistent. Every day something new, every day a different one or rhythm. Sam got me a white-noise machine after I complained last week, but it cannot drown out the screeches of the emergency room alarms, alerting the staff to yet another failing body. What it does drown out is my own breathing, raspier by the second. Mike would have told me that my rasp was sexy and then likened it to a bullfrog. It’s lonely without him. Or I guess it’s lonely being around without him around. Same thing I guess. 

Sam has been coming in every day. It was nice in the beginning, getting to see him every day but now it’s actually just sad, sad and depressing. Coming in with a new flower every day, arranging the dead ones so they don’t face me but make the bouquet look bigger. He brought the kids yesterday. That was better. I should ask for them more often but I’d rather they don’t remember me like this. With luck they won’t have to see the inside of the hospital room many times in their lives, might as well keep them sheltered for a bit longer.

Doesn’t help that even when they’re around I’m likely taking my first round of sleeping pills. Three days I’ve been taking them THREE! Still the ceiling fan is there to greet me when the lights are out. Did you know it rotates 37 times in 5 minutes. It’s actually quite slow.

Maybe it was faster before. There’s a clipping sound every time the cracked fan-arm moves past the door. Probably breaking from overuse. I’m sure no one’s changed any part of that fan since the hospital was built. Not one.

Honestly, I feel for it. It’s basically like all the people in this place. Once new and beautiful and successful and then bit by bit, it just breaks. And no one is interested in replacing the parts so it can work well.

Hah, here I am getting all sentimental about the meaning of life. Isn’t much use now.

Can you believe stuff in this book goes back to when I was 7? It’s really weathered the times.

I mean –

‘November 15, 2006

Dear Diary,

Today I went to school and played dodgeball. I was I think the best person, I dodged really well. Matthew and Jason were being my bodyguards the entire time. It was amazing. Amir told me I was really good. It made me feel happy. Anyway it’s getting late time to go to sleep. Byebye.’

What a simpler time. I mean looking back it is all ridiculous. The things that made me happy. The ways that hah –

‘February 2, 2014

Hey Diary, it’s been a long time. Been applying for universities today. It is so stressful. Everyone says that I’m a shoe-in for Colarado Uni. It’s actually been making me SO FUCCKING angry. I’ve already been rejected. Hah can you believe. I haven’t told anyone yet, I can’t. I don’t know what to say. I was banking on it. Ugh. And to top it off Mom looked through my binders and found that paper, that one where I was doodling about Kash. Yeah well I mean that’s all down the drain now. FUck.’

-it was simpler but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. The things that hurt were simpler though. I guess thick skin is a real concept.

‘I cant beleiv he did that to me. I cant believe I loved him for so long so fucking long it was years o fmy life years. I don’t know hat to do. I just dstetrdhgfvjbknl



Should fucking die’

Life is just about developing thicker skin until nothing hurts anymore. I didn’t get there though. Still hurts thinking about it. Not sure why I wrote it down, it’s not the kind of thing I want to reminisce on afterwards – definitely the kind of stuff I’d like to forget. But I guess, at that time, that was all I had.

‘April  28, 2026

It’s been seven months since I’ve been able to even touch Sora. I can’t – it just is way too painful. Having a child was NOT what I expected. I feel like not even human you know. And I mean not even worthy of kissing him. I mean whatever I bore a child, the miracle of humans occurred in my body but it doesn’t change the fact that it feels…weird. So weird. I don’t know if this will ever end. It doesn’t feel like it will.’

It definitely did end. We had four kids. The things that seemed endless and allconsuming really ended up to be nothing. Well, not nothing. My pain was real but reading it now is almost funny. Actually it is funny. What a biased account of my life. I mean I don’t have a single entry in here about how great it was to watch Sam learn to speak. But I probably have pages scribbled in here about how the countless middle of the night wakeups lead to the worst eyebags I’ve ever experienced.

Funny, how the world works. How if anyone ever reads these pages my life really seems like someone chose me to play out the world’s saddest story. But it really wasn’t. But hey, who’s going to know that. Who’s going to read through the messy handwriting to see that it wasn’t all bad and even when I’m complaining about the hospital ceiling fan that hey, it wasn’t all bad.

It’s 4 AM now. I’d write more but I’m starting to get tired. Funny right? First time I’ve been tired like this in a long time. I actually wanted to write more but I think I’ll get to it tomorrow. Can’t right now.

I think I have a few more empty pages to go.

This could be my memoir.

Probably not interesting enough for anyone to read. Wasn’t interesting to write anyhow. But hey, writing has helped.

Wow I am so tired now. So tired.

It’ll feel nice to finally close my eyes. Bye ceiling fan. Thanks diary.’

April 08, 2020 02:12

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