Page 95 of Poison Aches

For clarity’s sake, let’s make clear some fucking hardcore but simple facts that I’ve since accepted partly because I have no choice in the matter and partly because, well, why delay the inevitable?

I’m dying.

I have been since I was in my mother's womb, if we’re being technical, because congenital heart defects are a curse you’re born with.

I accepted that simply because that’s the easiest part of my life.

I’m aware of my fucked-up, blotched, torn-up heart that leaks blood like a faulty tap in the back of a haunted house.

My heartbeats are simply not guaranteed.

I’m aware that if I close my eyes to go to sleep one night, the thing might stop working altogether.

I’ve come close enough times to have firsthand experience.

The fucking hard part of all this is…waiting.

I have no idea when the damn thing will give up and retire as it’s supposed to.

Hell, I’m stunned whenever I open my eyes in the morning and go through each day. Like really fucking shocked.

Living with that knowledge has been like having a double-edged sword pointed right at my balls.

On one hand, I don’t have to wonder about much in life.

Most people care about achieving their dreams or career goals, traveling across this accursed globe or any of that bucket-list bullshit.

I’m not like that.

I don’t care about setting goals or achieving stuff that I’ll probably never live long enough to see flourish.

I’m just barely here.

If I could describe my life in a way that would make this debacle easier to digest, it’s like attempting to breathe and crawl in a barely lit hole, while holding a grenade that might go off at any second.

It’s not like I went hunting for the grenade. The damn thing was just given to me right from the start and it never came with a damn safety pin in the first place.

So what would you do if you were me?

Isn’t accepting fate the smartest shit you’ll ever do when you know there isn’t a magic wand to fix things?

But there’s some good news though—to make you feel a bit better about your unwanted sympathy—we knowhowit’s going to happen.

For most people, death is like the great unknown.

You don’t know if you’ll die from an accident, from cancer or food poisoning. Hell, one moment you’re happily munching on deep-dish Chi-Town pizza and the next thing you’re choking to death.

A sudden death you don’t see coming is mercy.

A death you can see coming but have to wait for… now, that’s hell and I live in the deepest pit of it.

Ignorance is bliss that I can’t afford.

With each day, I listen to my heartbeats.

They sound irregular.

Wrong.

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