100 DAYS [SEONGJOONG]

[4] - YELLOW

//T/W : brief mention of s*lf-h*rm

88 DAYS

Yellow.

The room glowed in the daylight, dappled beams coruscating within the space, through gaps between the leaves of the trees and other obstacles. Specks of dust particles seemed to waltz in the void, prominent against the splash of the aureate gleam falling across the white walls in a slight slant. The sky was a pretty stretch of soft azure and white clouds like cotton floated across it at their leisure. Balmy winds rushed through the open windows, making the curtains fluttered and fly.

A sight to behold.

I laid back on the infirmary bed, feeling extremely weak and worn out. The therapy sessions had already begun and the first round had drained almost everything out of my body. I had lost my appetite and felt highly nauseous whenever I tried getting off the bed. For the past two days, I stuck to it without any unnecessary movements, lest I loose my balance and collapse. This was just the beginning. I wondered what would happen later.

By 11, I felt quite better and was ready for the discharge. A week's stay at the hospital was not bad, but definitely lonely. I could feel my limbs again and the pills did an amazing job of making me feel less dizzy, and hence, a tad of my energy was back. Taking the prescription and making a mental note of all that the doctor said, I was allowed to leave.

As I walked down the footpath that bordered the busy road of the lively city, I chuckled to myself. This wasn't worth it, was it? After all, all I could pay for was just three rounds of the therapies. I didn't have enough money, and I barely worked anymore.

I wouldn't be able to afford it at all.

What's the use? I wondered, loud honks and sharp screeches of vehicles making me momentarily loose the track down my chain of thoughts. Will it protect me? Will it prolong the time of my death? Will it?

Absolutely no.

Then why was I even doing it all?

The rest of the day flew like the autumn breezes, and all I did was sleep and at certain occasions, drag myself into the kitchen and rummage through the shelves or the refrigerator to get something to eat. It felt annoying to breath when I knew it was not for long. Why couldn't it arrive sooner?

And once again, I had thought of bringing it upon me, a warm welcome to an upcoming visitor. I stood at the doorstep, eyes fixated upon the kitchen knife, thoughts in a disarray.

It would be easier, wouldn't it?

And yet, I failed. Miserably.