There were approximately four months before I finally kicked the bucket. When I finally let my phone ring till the end, I just told my parents that I loved them. I did not tell them that I would be dying and burdening them once again.
I was staying in the same house as someone and I couldn’t even tell them what was happening. I was too scared to hurt her. I was too scared to hurt my parents too.
I sometimes dreamt of a time after my death. How much happier everyone would be without me. Who wouldn’t be happy? I mean, the nuisance would be finally gone.
I woke up that night and decided to go get a glass of water. Instead, I ended up on the kitchen floor, crying a dam. Because rivers are too cliché.
I did not know that it was 5am until my girlfriend walked in confused, saying that it was 5 in the morning. She never finished her sentence because when she saw the mess that was me, she stopped.
She hugged me and told me that everything would be okay after I struggled to tell her the truth.