"…never be able to sing again…" I could hear these words echo in my head over and over like some horrible mantra that I was meant to meditate over. I shook my head violently to try and forget the words and what they meant.


Not, one month, or a week or even a year. Never. I will never have the chance to sing, to project my thoughts and feelings to everyone in a room. I will never have the ability to do what I loved most.

I sobbed until my throat hurt. I know I shouldn't have, but I just didn't care anymore. My life, my love, my passion, it was all taken from me in one fell swoop. If I chose the surgery, I'd loose my precious voice and if I didn't I would undoubtedly die. Either way, I knew that I would never sing again.

It just… doesn't seem to matter anymore. Ever since I was little I sang. I sang and sang and made something of myself in the music world from the time I was 12 until now. I never finished school, or at least, I never made it past high school graduation. There was nothing for me outside of the music world, nothing.

I've been told that I can continue to write songs, but what is the point of writing down your soul and not being able to perform it the way you hear it in your mind. Hearing my songs, my self, being performed for me because I couldn't, would almost be worse then death. No, it would be worse then death, I think.

I can't take it. I won't take it. I absolutely refuse for my life to end this way. I will not let my voice be taken and I will not lay here and peacefully pass on into the other world. I won't.

I get up and grab my helmet and run outside. It's raining, even though I recall hearing that it was supposed to be nice all day. It seems almost as if even whatever gods may be don't want me to be happy. Fine with me, I could care less.

Angrily, I jam my helmet on my head and get on my bike. I listen to the engine purr and feel the frame shake from the force of the engine. I rev the engine once and take off down the wet road, feeling the rain hit my body and watch the visor on my helmet dot with the droplets until I can barely see the road.

After about ten minutes, I realize that I can't see the road because of my own tears. It's no longer the rain that's obstructing my view, but myself. Just as it's not anyone who is keeping me from singing; but my own goddamn body. It's not the doctor's fault, it's not hospital's fault, it's my fault. This whole mess is all my fault.

Gripping the handlebars I increase my speed. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it all just ended here? No more pain, no decision, no need to choose between life without singing and my own slow death by cancer. Just one…slip. That's all it'd take, isn't it? I'd just slip and fall and then everything would end.

It's now, that I realize just how fragile human life is.

How easy, it is, for one terrible split second accident to end or permanently alter the course of a person's life. How hearing the words "you have cancer" and "you can no longer sing" can completely and utterly devastate my own life. And, how easy it is to end it all.

I've been on this road more times then I can count and I can practically feel the curve up ahead. Every reflex in my body is telling me to lean to the left and take the curve, but for some reason I can't. I just don't see the point. I've heard tons of newscasts saying how this area has claimed yet another life because the curve is not well lit and no one sees it coming.

I do.

I see it coming, but I don't want to take it. I don't want to go past that curve to a place I can't see. I don't want to see my life without singing and I don't want to die on a bed, surrounded by pitying fans.

I see the curve in my life, and I don't want to take it.

Instead I let my grip on the handlebars go lax and go straight. In the last second my body jerks and tries to swerve to try and take the curve, try and make it, somehow. But it's too late.

Far too late.