Looking Back

Chapter One: Giving Up

I stopped. I stopped everything. I just let go. Nothing I seemed to do worked and everything that worked quit working quickly. My life wasn't getting any better and there was nothing I could do to stop it. So I gave up. My father always told me that giving up was the worst thing you could do. But at this point in my life, in this situation, I had no other choice. It was the best for him, it was the best for me, and it was the best for everyone. They were all waiting for me to go. The suspense was beginning to be unbearable. It was to the point that everyone was almost wanting it to happen, yet still no one was prepared when it did. No one was prepared. Looking back at it now, even I wasn't prepared for what I let myself do.

I was born on April 18, 2003. My mother died on April 18, 2003. She passed slowly.
Slowly.
I hate that word. I was never a patient child. I was always rushing everyone else, forcing them to walk faster, get here sooner, buy this toy quicker. I hate it for other reasons though.

I was born with leukemia. This particular disease has made my life harder, a lot harder. But I feel like this has brought me through a journey like no other. A journey I will go through with you. A journey that will change my life forever.

When I woke, the sound of silence filled my ears and head. It was quiet, but a loud quiet. The kind of quiet that you could hear. Suddenly, I felt dizzy, like I was falling into an endless pit, and I couldn't breath. My heart monitor went off and a nurse rushed in. Everything calmed again. I always had anxiety and these panic attacks kept coming, especially when I was hospitalized.
"Everything alright in here?," she checked my pulse and I.V.
"Just another anxiety attack," I replied. "If that's considered 'alright'."
She laughed. I didn't enjoy when they laughed like that. I know they were trying to be cheerful and laugh at our jokes. But the problem is I don't find that funny. I assumed on day one that she never had anxiety, or anxiety attacks at least. She's older than me, or than what I was. She seemed to be in her mid or low thirties. I was only fourteen at the time.
I smiled, like how I always did. Those situations made me uncomfortable and I was awkward, as a teen especially. Getting through the day without any awkward situations was pretty much impossible for me.
"Ok, well don't scare me like that again," she teased.
"If only I could stop..." My trailed off. I wasn't sure how I wanted to end that sentence.

I fell asleep again at 2:35. It was a deep, dream filled sleep. My dream was quite vivid. It was of a person, a god-like figure who was glowing white light. This figure told me to give. Confusion washed over me. Give what? It kept saying that my life wasn't worth it and I should just give. It was like it said other words after that, words I couldn't hear.
The entirety of the dream was this figure talking to me, it's voice was angel or god-like, flowing smoothly from word to word. Every syllable sounded perfect, persuading me to do as it says, give. But I still was not sure what exactly it wanted.

I woke only a half hour later, despite the figure talking for an eternity. I was alone in my hospital room. Something seemed off. Something was definitely different. I just could not place it. Then it hit me. Hard. I knew what the voice was telling me to do. It was telling me to do what everyone was anxiously waiting for. For me to let go. For me to let my heart monitor go straight. For me to die.