Heartbeat

I like to imagine things, a lot of things. Sometimes I like to imagine myself being locked in a library by myself, enjoying the peacefulness that staying alone with the smell of ink gives me; sometimes I like to imagine flying a kite in the middle of nowhere and then lying down on the ground when I get tired and watching the sunset; sometimes I like to imagine running out of the hospital and finding freedom that is in theory too far away for me to catch, but in my imagination, anything is possible. I can hold onto freedom closely in my arms and make it truly mine. 

Imagination makes me feel better. They work better than the medicines. 

“How has your day been?” I know that the doctor knows me too well and he must know my answer to his question by heart: Horrible, I want to leave. 

I look out the window instead of looking at his face and answer his question which he already has an answer for. He sighs softly, not knowing that I can hear. “Your parents probably haven’t notified you, but you have another surgery coming up. I hope you get a lot of rest before that, so you must sleep in, understand? We want to make you feel better so you can leave this place as soon as possible.” He’s lying. We both know that I can no longer leave the hospital for the rest of my life, well, I don’t have much time left. Getting more surgeries is just wasting my parents’ money and my time. However, my parents deeply believe that I will get better someday. I know the day will never come. 

“I will try to sleep.” I cover my head up with the blanket, wanting him to leave. 

“I won’t bother you anymore. Just sleep in, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” He closes the window for me and leaves the room. Everything becomes silent. I love this so much. 

I may be able to fall asleep tonight. 

…

To be honest with you, readers, living a life in the hospital is not fun. You might imagine me doing whatever I want because I’m the “pathetic little kid who needs caring more than others”, but no, that’s wrong. Nobody tends to care about me and what I am doing. All they care about is whether I am alive or not, but not about my feelings or if I have the will to live. To “live” is a word for people who are actually spending time enjoying themselves and their lives, I guess I am only “surviving”. People who come and greet me often tell me how lucky I am to have so much free time and not need to go to school, but really, school sounds like a better place than a hospital. I’ve never been to a school before but from what I’ve heard and what the television showed me, it seems like a place where I can interact with people who will make my life happier. The only people I am allowed to hang out with right now are doctors who are too busy to deal with my emotions, nurses who just want to get off of work, and my parents, the worst ones. They send in boxes of books and toys, sometimes flowers, but they never ask me if I want them or not. They treat me like I am already dead. They think gifts will make me happy, but no, I just want their attention and actual, warm caring. I want people to wonder what I care about, or what I am feeling. Cliche. Most of the time I just want to be with myself, because I have learned that people only do what’s beneficial to them, other times they just want to get over with things they are forced to deal with. I am the thing they need to deal with.

I want to be gone. To wake up and everything is gone, except for me, who continues to live in the abyss of loneliness. 

…

It’s so quiet out there. 

Since I live in the hospital, my morning is always filled with noises from everywhere. Children crying for help because they are hungry; nurses pushing carts to provide food; doctors shouting to give directions; elderly people walking in the hallways, trying to find some fun out of exercising. Every piece of noise triggers me and causes me to wake up at a time that’s way too early. 

But today everything is silent. 

I open my eyes to check if I’m delusional. 

This is not the hospital. 

Instead, I am sitting in nowhere. When I look down, I only see blackness and shining stars floating around with me. There is nothing beneath me. Let me explain this better: I am looking at the Earth and on the far end of my sight there is the sun, the bright, ginormous sun. Between those two are asteroids and burning stars that are a little too big for me to measure. I try to move my body around but then I realize there is no gravity here, so I’m only able to float around, just like the plants and stars around me. Everything is just like what I’ve learned from reading books and the information that the internet gives me. But weirdly I can breathe and I am surviving without any protection. I’ve seen pictures of astronauts, they seem to be fully prepared for what's going to make an impact on their bodies in the universe. I’m different, I’m still wearing my hospital gown which is nothing but a thin layer of fabric. 

This is fake. I’ve known since the moment I opened my eyes. 

Let me close my eyes again, and then the next time I open them I’ll see the television hanging on the wall of my hospital room. Everything will be back to normal. This is only a dream. 

…

It’s not a dream. 

I’ve tried ways to prove that this is not a dream. I open my eyes again, and it is the same view, except now some stars are even closer to me; I slap myself to see if it actually hurts, it does, and my right cheek still stings. How is this reality? First of all, this isn’t scientific. How am I alive? 

Ah, perhaps I’m dead. That explains it all.  However, I never imagined heaven - or hell, to look like outer space. It’s quite nice out here, though. I will enjoy and accept the silence that death has given me. 

How wonderful it is to finally be free. 

There are many definitions of freedom. To be formal, the definition of freedom is that one holds the absolute power of their actions, this means that they aren’t being limited by anything and can do whatever they want. For me, the definition of freedom is not being controlled by the hospital or my parents. They have never asked me whether or not I want to live, they only want to keep me alive for their own good - whatever that tends to be. I never understand why my parents still want me there in the world when they rarely visit me. Won’t it be easier if I’m gone? That way they don’t have to pay for my expensive hospital fees and the gifts. Adults do things I don’t understand, and that’s why I never want to grow up. I’m afraid that one day I will become unreasonable, just like my parents who seem to be living in another world.

Well, now we’re actually living in different worlds.  

I don’t know if I should be glad or not. 

…

I remember last Christmas when my hospital room was filled with boxes of toys and books. All the other kids in the hospital were so jealous of me. However, I didn’t play with any of the toys because I was so sick that I couldn’t even move my arms to unwrap them. I could only watch the nurses bring them up to me one by one so I could take a good look at them. 

At that time, I was more focused on the snow outside instead of the toys in front of me. I wondered what it would be like to play in the snow with friends that I never had. I wanted to know what snow felt like, and what the world would look like with snow covering it. I could only see the view outside my window and nothing more than that. I wanted to see how big the world is. 

Right now I have the best chance to do so. I have floated far enough to see the Earth closer up. I realized how small I was on the land and that nothing in the past seemed to matter anymore. 

When you are feeling better, Mom and Dad will take you anywhere you want. Do you have a place in mind? 

Yes, Mom. I want to touch the snow. I want to sit in a library and read for hours and hours until the library closes. I want to go to school by myself and learn with kids who are the same age as me. 

I want to go home. I want to have dinner with you at the dinner table. 

I guess I don’t actually like to be alone. 

…

I don’t know how my eyes closed again, but this time when I open them up, I am back in the hospital. Except, this time my parents are beside me. 

“The surgery was very successful.” the doctor’s voice brightens, “In fact, he can leave the hospital in a week!” My mom covers her mouth with both of her hands, “Thank you, thank you, I can’t express how grateful I am. This is the day that we’ve been waiting for!” She collapses into my dad’s arms as my dad takes a look at me, “The surgery wasn’t easy, the doctor said that your heartbeat stopped for a while during the surgery and we must be prepared that you might die, but look, you made it! We’re so proud of you.”

I look outside the window as I see the sun shining at its hardest.

“Yeah. Let’s go home soon.”