Spoiler! :
Felix
I have always wondered what the outside world feels like now. How I wish to feel the touch of grass, or rain streaming down my face, the ground under my feet, or see the deep, blue sky above me... All these things I have taken for granted.
Oh, how I wish to feel alive again.
Today is exactly one year, six months and two weeks that I’ve been in a coma.
I can feel everything around me, I can hear everything, but I cannot see, and cannot move, however much I wish to. Sometimes, when the nurses come in the morning, I concentrate ever so hard to move a single finger, just one movement, then they would know I still had hope, that I was still alive... but all my attempts have failed.
I don’t remember how I fell into a coma. Was it a disease, or an accident, I cannot remember... even if I tried, so many times, every single day I want to remember something new, but all I have is faded, jagged memories, all mixed up in my mind, like a puzzle I can’t put together right. Emotions have also faded, as if washed out. All I can do is bring back old memories, the scarce remains of my life, to remember what colours look like, what texture feels like. And, every day, those feelings become blunt, unrecognisable, strange...
I often think of the summer before my coma. I was swaying back and forth on swings attached to a huge, brownish-grey branch of the nearby maple tree. As I pushed from the ground and flew forward and high up, I could see the horizon, and below it, the vast fields. I wonder if the swings are still there. I wonder if the wheat still gently rocks from side to side, and if it still looks like a golden sea, quavering below my feet....
***
I woke with the sun shedding its light on me... about three quarters down my arm, so it must have been around eleven o’clock. I heard the nurse open the window, and so the cool breeze flew over my lifeless body. She told her friend to get something, and stepped closer to me.
It was the daily routine again - she turned on the machine that supplies me with food, and wiped my face with a damp towel. She did this very gently, I could hear her calm breathing, and feel her steady hand wipe away the dust from my bony face. But today, the nurse was different. Her perfume isn’t sweet like the one who usually greets me in the morning, it is a rather strong and flowery smell. I hated it. I could feel her long hair rubbing against my arm, and for a second I wished I would get goosebumps, because it tickled me, but still, nothing. It’s always nothing. I don’t even know, how for a year and a half, I still managed to have hope. I guess I’m much like my father - I never lost hope, and never had anything other than my way.
But to say the truth, I was rather desperate. I could feel my body, every inch of it, but unable to move it. I felt helpless and trapped. I was sick of the tubes sticking out of me, my numb body, my lifeless arms, my constant anger and anxiety bursting out, silently.
Sometimes, I wished I had just died. I thought it was better than the state I was in. I wished for death and prayed to the gods to let me go, but eventually, it all came back to blank tiredness, and the day dragged on.
I have been trying to know about everything that’s going on around me, and from noises and voices in the room, I could picture my surroundings quite clearly: white-washed walls, a bed - with me on it, a table and a chair, a wooden door that made a loud noise every time it was opened, but I didn’t know what the floor was, as the nurses never wore heels or platformed shoes. It was probably tiled, and white as well. There were two windows, which opened so that the wind would always blow over me. And there were two nurses, usually. One had a hoarse voice but a smooth touch, and the other spoke very loudly, and did everything fast, as if she was always in a rush for something. I wished I could be in a rush to do something. But all my days passed calmly and slowly, and all I could do is attempt to entertain myself. I did this by either imaging where I was, the appearance of the nurses, or I would often try to find out what was going on in the world, in the world where I no longer play a part.
Thankfully, this wasn’t too hard, because the nurses were very chatty and I could always hear them from the room next to mine. I knew there was a conflict, which might very soon evolve into war. And that it was going to be a big one, and that humans were probably not going to win it. I tried to figure out the reason why, because the nurses didn’t know it themselves. The closest that they, and I, ever got to an answer when a doctor mentioned the spirits. The thought kept me occupied since, because my father still is (if he isn’t dead, of which I am not sure), a specialist on the spirits. He studied them from university, and had a career in trying to understand how they lived, worked, and fitted in with us. Still, I could not understand. Why would the spirits cause a war? As far as I knew, the spirits were the calmest, pure and understanding creatures who have ever lived on this earth. What would the humans have to do to anger them so much? The nurses discussed this quite often, but never got close to an answer. Also, they never sounded worried or anxious, even though a war was happening, which was very confusing for me. After all, I had no idea where I was...
The questions kept rolling in, and as soon as I thought of answers, new questions evolved, and I soon found myself stuck in my own prejudice and assumptions, purely based on my father’s words, and the nurse’s gossip. It angered me, so much that I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Today, I have decided I cannot stay the way I am anymore. Today, I decided I would escape.
As soon as the thought flashed through my mind, it carried hope and determination, even though I had no idea if my plan was to work. But to me, everything seemed possible. I just
had to get out of here, out of my lifeless body, out of this hospital, away from food through a tube, away from smells of hospital and strong perfume, away from the noises of laughter which felt like thorns wrapped around my heart. I tried to calm myself down, and concentrate. I thought out my plan carefully. In the first three months of my coma, my father would come and sit next to me. He would talk to me, even if everyone kept telling me I was practically dead.
‘‘Son, you can escape this. You can do it. I did.’’
At first, I didn’t believe him - I had hope that I would awaken, the thought of being in a coma forever... never even came to mind. I thought that medicine is advanced enough, people fall into comas and then awaken... but that never happened. Soon enough, I tried to face the thought that I am destined to die twice. But, I still don’t believe this.
I don’t want to. It never brought anything but depression, and even more anger. I don’t believe this and I never will.
Because today, I decided I was going to leave this world.
It was a win-win situation - I have nothing to lose, and if I die, I do not care.
And so, I calmed myself down, and thought of nothing.
Just white space, oblivion.
Of course, it was hard at first, but I still had what seemed like an eternity to practice...
Everything was becoming blank, I had blocked out all the noise, voices, and just escaped the world, trying to also exclude all my emotions, and try to feel...
Nothing... no pain, no anger... no frustration or broken memories... no helpless attempts to be alive again... just nothing... peace... a sudden feeling of warmth... something that words cannot even describe, such a wonderful feeling... something I have been waiting for ... so... long...
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