blank page

[Another blank page, marked only by its faded lines and tear stains

Interrupted, disruptive, never really thought through

A blurt out of the pain inside

The step not taken

The words said, time and again]

The reality hit of learning about her terminal illness: a wake-up call.

Her fingertips flickered through her own hands, bringing attention to the present;

(Ever attempting to be in the now, but her mind is always in the future) Now there is no future.

There is only a few years left. Enough for her to feel special about dying young and soon, but not quite enough to act absolutely crazy and spend all of her money.

It is a silent disease. If she keeps up with her meds, no one will really notice it. Her ears buzz as the doctor speaks, and her mind drifts away again…

Sam?

The familiar suddenness of her name being pronounced in a hushed tone makes her jump out of her chair. The doctor looks at her with pity and compassion. She requests the documentation be sent to her private email, agrees on making a follow-up appointment with the receptionist outside, and sets off from the doctor’s office.

She does not make the appointment. Not right away, at least, she can call them later on. Now, she just needs to fully feel the sinking in the pit of her stomach.

Sam steps into the busy street. She stops and watches the crowd, passing through and looking busy, bumping into her and barely even noticing it. Barely noticing her. She might as well not be there at all. Soon, she won’t be. It will be a little bit more silent. One less breath to carry on the tune of the crowd. A little less bitter for her, but a little less sweeter for the world.

Sam thought she had time. She knew that time was limited, for everyone’s time is, but it always felt like life would last for much longer. She is in her mid-twenties, for god’s sake. She could spare the time of hating her job, not living the love of her life, forcing a laugh… The time to feel bad about herself (almost all of the time), to pity her existence, sometimes wishing not even to exist.

And now, oddly enough, it all felt so clear. Sam would stop existing in a short future. And that allowed her to fully live: the way she wanted to, because now she truly owed it to herself. A sense of relief ran through her nerves. She had always felt a bit disconnected, chasing the dreams that society had fed to her. Now, she could finally be free.

[Oh Sam, if only you had realized you could be free beforehand. You just had to choose it.]

Sam is finally sitting at the bus station, waiting for the next bus to come. But she keeps missing it, being too absorbed by her thoughts. She knew she would quit her job tomorrow and start a course on sustainability. She would learn how to make clothes out of recycled materials. She would teach others how to do that too, and she would help employ low-income people while making her dream come true.

Sam did not really care about her current job, the big pay-check, it would make no difference at the end. She just wanted to leave a mark, something good for the world.

Sam would put on a beautiful dress tonight, make love to her boyfriend, and then say goodbye. She would thank him for his love, for all the memories, and tell him they both deserved better. There was more to love than this.

She would also travel. A ticket to Belize for tomorrow night, so she can go as soon as she quits her job. She would not tell anyone about her plans or her disease. For a little while, she just wanted to be off the grid. To hear her inner voice, and that would be all. She felt proud of herself for the first time in a while.

Sam suddenly notices she has been staring ahead at a stranger’s eyes. Blinking, she realizes that it is not a stranger, in fact, but an old high school crush. Without hesitating, Sam steps away from the bus stop. She hears a loud buzz.

It feels like the bus hits her in slow motion, but it all happened too fast. Her bones crush instantly. Blood is dripping on the floor. All the great plans she had ahead of her… Too late. But she was free.