Finn had trouble getting up.
Every time the day passes by, he understands more and more how pointless life is.
So he didn't bother to get up from his bed anymore. There's no point so he wouldn't care.
The symptoms of his disease started to flare up more painfully when he turned into a teenager, but Finn remained quiet. He didn't want to talk to anyone about it. He never complained and would rather suffer silently, letting the pain of life stitch him open like a pin needle.
Finn didn't want to get up.
Finn only desired to stay in bed.
Finn just wanted to sleep—
forever.
"Eternal sleep; eternal bliss," he murmured then the darkness took him away, and he hoped it would stay that way.
Sleep is the only temporary thing he doesn't like.
YOU ARE READING
Drowning Memoirs of Finn
Short StoryFin is a word from Italian and Spanish language that means "The End" or "Finish". In Finn's mind, this must be the meaning of his life ever since he was born.
