I woke up.
I threw up immediately, and repeatedly. I
was drugged still, and was totally disoriented. Now with a clearer
head I consider that famous rockstar death of 'drowning in your own
vomit' and wonder how close I came to that.
I rolled
over onto my back. That was a mistake. Without elevation, I had
trouble breathing. I was helpless still, an invalid just out of
surgery, and I was laying on the cool stonework floor of that
laboratory.
I saw feet, and those feet were connected
to a vague shape. I reached out for it and nothing moved. The hand
that was supposed to respond, or at least would've before that damn
fool's errand, wasn't there.
It was kind of silly to
visualize using that hand, but well...I wasn't used to it being lame yet
anyway. A few hundred thousand years of walking the Path versus a
few...months I guess of being lamed.
I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm just so tired, I'm so weary. It was one of those moments of helplessness that you just can't recover from. A dentist working your teeth with only a subtle nudge to tell you what was happening.
Except it was far, far worse, far more intimate. The snap of tendons, of connective tissue, of bones being so casually put aside.
It was death in its purest form. Helplessness against a greater foe, getting savaged without any chance to defend. I could barely even process what was happening.
And I can't get that moment out of my mind.
The antidepressants. I don't even know if I should be taking these. I don't know if they help with what I feel. I don't know if I'm making things worse.
I take them because I need to feel that SOMETHING is helping me.
I've lost weight. I know its not healthy. I just can't eat. There's no appetite left in me. Every bite of food makes that sound, that sound that I heard. Even with my ears blocked, I can hear it through my skull. The rend of meat, the snap of tissue. Even vegetables make a noise, and the damn thing haunts me.
Potato. I've been eating salted potato since. 26 brings it to me.
I'm in this room. with an IV in my arm. She comes in, she tries to talk, she waves her hand before me, doing something to me that I can't resist.
I don't know. I'm just so tired. I've not slept in a thousand years. I think this is all there is. In all of heaven and hell, this is always how it must be.
Life is terrifying and horrible, why should death be any different?
