Short Storys

Paralized

I can hear the loud and obnoxious sound constantly beeping. I hate it, as well as long to hear more. They tell me I'm alive. Beep, beep, beep. Eyes far too tired to open, create an endless void of colour. Black. Plastic buried in my throat is the only thing my taste buds have been able to touch in what seemed like forever. A rubbery flavor and sense of dismay accompany the long tube. I felt like my nose had lost meaning, the only smell was that of purified air. No home cooked meal anywhere close. What at one point gave me a feeling of panic, I have become numb to. Not being able to lift my hand nevertheless a finger is something I've gotten accustomed to. I haven't heard anyone familiar in what felt like years, unless you count the endless stream of needle givers and vital checkers. The snap of clipboards never seem to end and I don't Want them to. I need the reassurance. My Consciousness seems to fade in and out, I can't tell if it's me slowly dying or a version of falling asleep.