Have you ever felt the inside of you just falling apart? Like there is something eating away at you, festering itself inside you and slowly dragging you under? Do you know what it feels like to die a little more each day? And I'm not talking about every day you are closer to meeting the mark of your death eighty nine years in the future. No, I mean you can feel death creating a nest inside of you, just waiting. That kind of dying is what I'm talking about.
Do you know that pain? Waking up every day to still be dead tired, to have to take thirty pills just so you can stand to sit up without your head exploding, Watching pints of blood leave your body into the sink or the floor depending on how quickly you can make it to the bathroom or not.
Ever watched your family cry over you because they know that you are dying? Watch them try to make you comfortable and you have to give your best effort to look happy so they don't feel like they have done something wrong. Have you ever been so scared gripping the porcelain edges of a toilet because maybe this might be the end for you?
Do you know how much debt you will be in by the time the Chemotherapy treatment is over, only to find out that you still have cancer and that you only have a few years left to live? Do you know how much you will cry over the life you so desperately want to cling too? Tears mixing with red hot skin over your cheeks and off your chin where blood still pours from your mouth and you can't breathe.
Do you know this? Because I do. I have been forced for years to deal with this pain, like I am in a cage match against cancer, and cancer has the iron chair that will soon meet with my face and then it's all downhill from there. I am only human, one of the unlucky ones to have it grown inside of me, knowing one day that I will die. Sooner than my eighty nine years in the future. Oh what I wouldn't give for those eighty nine years right now, to know that I have something other than this to look forward too.
I drag myself off the floor, the cold tile feeling so friendly on my legs. I cleaned the excess blood from my mouth and tried not to look at myself in the mirror. I was in bad shape this December morning, it was snowing outside which made me three times as cold as everyone else and my medication was being re-filled and I had no way of getting to it unless I walked myself down to the local CVS about a mile away. I was alone for the first time in weeks, my mother having finally left for a few days to get some work done in her house. She assured me when she left "I'll come back in a while, I need a mental health day." Which I didn't mind. I never asked her to come this way to help me.
She needs to mind her own damn business because even if I am dying I can still take care of myself. I'm twenty two, I have a job, and I'm doing alright aside from my illness. I recently in the last four years discovered that I somehow contracted cancer. My mothers, first husbands, mothers, brother had it and I guess that would make me next in line to get it since he, my sperm donor decided to ruin my life as well as let me grow up thinking that he hated me since he was never around.
I was at the end of my rope now, or at least that's how I felt. There was a knock at the door; science never did last too long in my life. Who the hell wanted to see me anyway? I'm a complete downer and I'm not that nice either. Regardless I managed to turn the door knob on the front door and gaze up at the tall figure that stood in front of me.
"Hey motherfucker, you don't look so good today." I could feel his hand on my shoulder and absent mindedly nod a whisper 'I'm fine.' and stepping ever so slightly out of the way so that he could enter. Gamzee made it a point to come by every day or so to hang out with me so I didn't feel like I was completely abandoned. Having been friends for so long he had seen me through every step of the way and I could tell that watching my final trip downhill was taking a toll on him, even as strong as he was.
"Do you need anything bro?" he asked again. "You look like you need a damn hit or something. Look al up like you're about to fall over or some shit." he closed the door and a shadow cast back over the floor and I didn't say a word. I felt that if I spoke that maybe I would cry. And I have had enough tears for one week seeing how my doctor so kindly told me it would be any day now that I would kick it. And then no more Karkat.
There was a plain sadness to Gamzee's hazel eyes his hand moved not an inch off my shoulder as he pulled me in for a hug. I hadn't bothered to tell him, why worry him when he has been such a good friend to me. Shit, he was just about my only friend. There was no protest on my part and if there was my bones might have snapped. My arms moved to hug him too, or as much as I could.
He looked down at me and he smiled pulling me towards the living room. "All you need is a mother fucking miracle bro." he sat me down on the couch with him and lit up one of his many joints in the confines on my living room. Once he tried to hand it over to me I pushed against his hand, clearly stating that I did not want and weed, now or ever.
And it was a day; where he actually watched romcoms with me and tried to get me too eat something. There was only so much I could take before I could hear myself asking him to leave because I was tired and I really just wanted to go to bed. My heart was fluttering like it was barely beating anymore. It was trying so hard not to shut down on me in the middle of my goodbye. He waved at me sadly from his car window before it drove away and I was left to close the door and lock it. I was walking to the counter when my legs gave way under me.
I had tried to catch myself on the counter and I missed dragging a pile of mail along with the house phone down around, and on top of me. The clatter was louder than my colorful and low language that escaped my mouth as I fell and hit the ground with a more deliberate thud. Ow, that really fucking hurt. I pushed barely up before coughing and there was a blurry splatter of blood was strung from my mouth, it was a little darker then it normally was and my vision hit the blurry side. My head soon rested back on the floor, the blood soaking into the black locks that were now matted to my face.
Though my fingers were trembling I managed to reach the phone and dial the number 911. On the end recover there was a lady and I couldn't really hear what she said to me because I could feel my consciousness moving in and out.
And that's all I could manage before the black completely over took me and I was out.