By The Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead

From the diary of Annie Blackwell

"The clock winked"

The clocked winked never giving me enough time to go and store all of the things that I might be able to surpass by me. Though my imagination might be acting up, with the medication that I am taking, the side effect is hallucinations. It's been three years and I was fine until now, I had cancer three years ago, and now it's back.

Those three years of not having to do treatment, or taking medicine to make me better was a lot of fun, it was like I never had cancer. For once in my life I felt like a normal person. Now I'm back on treatment, medicine, and hospital beds. My parents can't look at me anymore, it is either that or they are just as scared as I am.

Truly the thing to wish for in this kind of situation, is a peacefully and fast death, that comes while you're sleeping. But to be honest, I would rather endure the pain, because to me if I wished for the former I will become a wimp and nothing else. Though if I took the latter then at least I know that I am alive, I can feel the pain, and see what is really going on. See the fear of people who walk passed my hospital room on their sad, little, hopeful, faces.

Here's the key that you need to remember, don't act scared. Because if the family thinks you're scared, then there is no turning back in the pit of the despair and melancholy that is turning your way. What you need to do is pretend that death really doesn't bother you, even though on the inside you're really shitting yourself.

When the family ask's, "'Are you scared of dying?'" in that I'm trying my hardest not to burst into tears voice, just shrug the question off, like they were asking if you want to go shopping, or an activity, or just give the answer that I've heard millions of people say to their families in order not to freak them out, "'God, is with me, and if he says that it is my time. Then it is my time. I'm not scared because God will take care of me.'". Don't get me wrong, I'm scared shitless of dying, though not of cancer, it's the hospital food you really got to watch out for. Okay sorry, bad time for humor.

Death is merely a time of resting, a time to finally take a breather and relax after all the work that you put through on the planet. Yes I'm scared, but I'm scared of a lot of things: bugs, clowns, people in costumes, things randomly going into continuum combustions, and of course the people who create bombs and other weapons for other countries. But that is no reason to just give up. People work hard every day in order for me to live another day, why should I just give up?

I don't have the answer to the question I seek, mostly because I just actually started to think on it. I think what really matters to me, is knowing if I die right now, or tonight, tomorrow, or even years from now, did I just sit around or did I really make a difference for someone or myself? Again no answer, just a thought, am I the person that I wanted to be, that my parents wanted me to be, that God wanted me to be? No, I'm not, and I'll tell you why. I'm not the person that I wanted, my parents, or God wanted because I was so glad that I didn't have cancer anymore that I forgot to appreciate what I really had in life, I was too preoccupied with doing whatever I wanted, and not caring that I forgot to realize that there are people who are dying of cancer, of just about anything you can think of right now, just like I am. So I take this cancer once again, and I don't make a deal of it, because to me in my mind I feel like I deserve this. For not being the person I should have been, for not appreciating the life that I got a second chance of having.

Death is upon me:

So, I here today is my last day, it's on just about everyone's lips, sadly even my own. Another question am I ready to die? Again no answer, though maybe. Today I am not scared of death, I am not fearful of what is to become of me. I leave you now diary with this last thought, hopefully I die peacefully.

Last sentiment:

I lie down on my pillow after a long day of writing, after putting my diary on the table next to me. I close my eyes and at first I am still breathing, but soon I see the face of God, and he puts out his hand waiting for me to take it, showing that I am ready, I take his hand and I go to heaven. When I look down from heaven, I see the doctors and nurses trying to revive me, and I see my family outside the window, my mother crying vigorously, my father trying to calm her even though he and I both know he will cry when he gets home. I look at God and he smiles at me.

I nod at him saying that I am staying, it is my time. He puts his hand on my shoulder and say's to me, "My child have always been there for you, and now I have this to say, you don't have to suffer any longer, for you are now at peace here with me and my kingdom."

When I look down again, the doctors and nurses are done trying to revive me, they know when to stop, they look at my family and sadly shake their heads, and again my mother sobs. They take me away in a bag to the morgue, and then put me in a casket, and then six feet under. While the preacher says things that he knows nothing about, and my dear family weeps their little eyes out.

One day, I go to God, and I ask, "Why are they suffering? They should be happy, that I am no longer suffering?"

This is what he says to me, "They suffer, because they are sad for you are no longer with them. They can no longer hear you, or see you, or tell you good night, morning, or that they love you. For this is why they suffer. They are suffering for the loss of you. My dear child, I wish I could give you back to them, I have mourned for you since the day you were born. I wept for you because I could not have you, I could not touch you, I could not tell you goodnight, morning, or I love you. This is why they suffer."

I understood, they suffer because, I am no longer theirs. Though to be honest, I wasn't theirs to begin with. But they are my family, and God has told me that they will be able to see me again.