Pain is a beautiful thing.
Every person can relate to the feeling of pain. The aches of aging joints that our elders know all too well. The heart wrenching, chest crushing pain of a teenagers first heart break. Or this sharp, new sensation that a baby is feeling for the first time. Pain is a part of our every day lives.
Physical pain is a warning bell. It cries out when we are reaching our limits, when we should back off and rest. It gives off a keening feeling that something is just not right. Physical pain is what keeps us whole.
Emotional pain is a different beast. It is a flavoring, one of the many spices of life. From the sharp, bitter tang of anger, to the aching wail of sadness. It is the negative emotions, that while they hurt in the moment, let us truly feel alive when they are gone. There can be no light without a shadow. The sunshine is all the more sweet after a long storm.
But too much, and it will ruin you.
When pain is all you feel there is no point to life, because you are no longer truly living. I have learned this first hand. As a infant, I had never stopped crying. As a baby, every sensation is a new experience. With nothing to base everything off of, each new event is the biggest in your small life. Each pain a infant gets is the worst thing they have experienced. My mother was going mad with the lack of sleep, and my father was desperate to find a way to stop my wailing. All I had known was I hurt.
My parents had noticed the way I was always coughing. The awful, wet-hacking noises I made should have been their first hint that I needed help. But it was not their fault they couldn't give it to me. Living in poverty means that some things come first, and seeing a doctor was not at the top of that list. It was not until I was three that they were finally able to afford the testing, and the age of three, I had been given a life sentence. Cystic Fibrosis.
I won't make you sit through my entire life, however short it was. But you should at least understand what it was like growing up with it. I spent most of my time in the hospital. Due to my parents lack of money, it wasn't a very good one. It was always overcrowded. Too many patients and never enough nurses. The smell of rubbing alcohol and stale sweat was always there. After a while, you learned to ignore it. Mom and dad were always working, trying to earn enough to keep up with the payments of my treatment. Due to never being able to go to public school, I never really made friends. I tried to convince myself that I was okay without any. I was tutored by some of the volunteers, and it was through one of them, that I was introduced to my escape.
I was given a old, beaten up book. Rather than the lengthy novels that I usually read, it was a story told through pictures. The volunteer said it was called manga, and that the story was called Naruto. From that day forward, I was enraptured with this world of incredible feats. I was able to convince the nurses to check out the rest of the series from the library for me. I lost myself in this world of ninja. I always tried to imagine myself in this universe of chakra and fighting. I imagined myself healthy, able to make friends and explore that magical world. I had loved the characters like I would a real person. I had wished there was a way I could change the way the story turned out. I wished there was a way to ease the pains of these characters.
I loved the story with every bit of my heart, up until I died. I wish I could show you what was dying was like. Everyone I have know assumes it to be the scariest thing in life. Death is something that consumes everybody in the end, and most fear the day it will come for them too. I guess I will make do with writing it out for you.
In the days leading up to it, I knew my time was short. I had tried to ease the pain of those around me, knowing that they will be the ones dealing with the aftermath. I told my favorite nurses how thankful I was for them taking care of me. Even though they were so overworked, they did their best for this lonely child, and I was grateful for it. I had told my doctor that I knew he tried his best, and it's okay that it didn't turn out okay in the end. When my parents had visited me for the last time, I let them know how much I loved them. I told them I knew that even though they weren't there for me all time, I was happy I was their child.
The day I died was a rainy April morning. My bed was always next to the window, and I had loved to watch the rain pour. The gentle patter of the drops against the window was a comfort. The sun was blocked out by the dark gray clouds, and thunder would occasionally roll over the sky. My breaths were coming in slower and slower. I could feel my heart sluggishly beating in my chest, and even though I was a bit scared, I was also a bit happy. I was going to leave the hospital finally.
I shut my eyes, acting as though I was just taking a small nap. The first thing to go was my sense of touch. I could no longer feel the rough cotton of the blanket, and although I knew I was lying in a bed, I felt like I was floating. My sight was gone next. Even though my eyes had been closed, it was like there was nothing there to begin with. It was not dark, just the absence of sight. The last thing to go was my hearing. As I drifted off to the sound of the many machines around me beeping, my last thought echoed in my head. Death is not a scary, cold experience. Death is calm, and it is oh so warm.
At 9:32 AM, on April 13th, I had died at sixteen years old.
(~~✿ • ✿~~)
I am floating. There is a warm ocean below, and nothing but darkness surrounds me. I do not know how long I have been drifting. The only thing I am aware of is my own mind, and the rocking of my body. I know I am dead. I had died as a teenager to a disease I never stood a chance against. But if I am dead, then where am I? Is this the afterlife? I do not think I particularly mind. As long as I am warm, and the water is calm, I am happy wherever I am.
(~~✿ • ✿~~)
Something has changed. For the first time since I died, I hear noise. A soft hum surrounds me. At first, I panic. This is something new, and it startles me. But as the hum continues, I realize that it is not going to hurt me. The noise surrounds me from all sides, and I realize that it is actually rather comforting. While this is new, I think I am okay.
(~~✿ • ✿~~)
I don't know how long I've been floating, but I have a feeling the space around me is growing smaller. The once wide ocean seems to be shrinking, and I feel like I'm suffocating. The fact that I feel that way confuses me, as I am almost certain that I don't breathe. There is only one thing that I truly know. Things are changing, and it scares me.
(~~✿ • ✿~~)
All of a sudden, I am no longer floating. I am falling.
In the first time in who knows how long, I see light. I feel like a giant mushy pile of jello, and the new noises and the too bright lights overwhelm me. I start to cry. I can feel myself being picked up, and something soft enveloping me. I open my eyes to see a woman holding me, and my first thought is how big is she? Its with a jolt, that I realize that she is not some sort of giant, but I am in fact tiny. While my mind is being overloaded by all the new sensations, I come to a distant epiphany.
I am a baby.
I was somehow reborn.
What the hell is going on?