I don't know why people love this "living" thing. I've been close to death, and I spend my earthly days trying to keep this broken body in the land of the living. I do this because my son wants me around; I always tell him to notify me if/when he changes his mind.
I won't go into detail about what manual things I put myself through, just to last the next 4 hours in this vessel of death. What I'd like to convey is the problem of suffering to stay alive; just to make people happy. I mean screw the patient, it's all about family and friends being able to have you, but not have you. These people are at work, and when they're not at work they're at play. They don't have the time to give to me, but they can rest and play easily when they know I ain't dead yet.
But, in a way, I am dead.
I spend my waking hours being my own nurse, while homeschooling my son from my sick bed. My illness doesn't take a day off. Sure, a change of scenery is refreshing and vacations are nice, but I still have to tend to this broken body, day and night, as I vacation.
So, I watch the world passing by me, saying: "But you're still alive, and that's what matters."
Fuck-off!
Wow...that "fuck-off" felt exhilarating... refreshing.
Fuck-off!
Yup, still working.