Taking a step back From our busy lives Sometimes I think, Looking at you, I find us beyond what I can see, You’re not you and I’m not me, There is no you, there is no me, Just that somebody, can you see? This is not that and that is not this, How crazy is this mindful bliss! Gone are those you and me, That somebody is all that we wanna be. Soon it’s not about how or why, Look up, smile oh a wonderful sky! Look below and feel grateful, You know you’re lucky, When you see that somebody. That’s not power, that’s not me. Can’t be you, not even in our we, Who would’ve known that it could be!
The Haruhi Suzumiya series of Japanese light novels is written by Nagaru Tanigawa with accompanying illustrations drawn by Noizi Ito. The series centers on the eponymous high school girl Haruhi Suzumiya, her strange antics, and her friends in a club she forms called the SOS Brigade.
“The tragedy is not that the people do not love us but because we fall in love with those who are not able to love us.”
“WHAT???” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The phone slipped from my hand. It fell down with a thud so loud that my heart skipped a beat. My eye sight blurred. The very thought of imagining her in that condition left me dead inside out.
Panicking was the only thing I could do – and did. I reached the spot in an impatient fifteen minutes. Those fifteen minutes were probably the most, the most, THE MOST longest fifteen minutes of my whole lifetime. Continue reading “Maps”
“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me.” ― Erma Bombeck I’m still alive. I cannot feel anything, but I can certainly hear everything. I have cancer. Brain tumour, to its severe stages. The people already consider me dead. No they haven’t informed my family. I can hear them talk and they seem to plan on telling them this afternoon as soon as they confirm my death.
I cannot move any part of my body, not even my eyes. My heart skips almost every alternate beat and is slowing down every second. I can feel no pain. The doctors closed my eyes to prevent extra pressure on the optic centre of my brain, which was close to the sight of infection, earlier.
I know I am going to die, but I still am alive. I try lifting my hand, but I’m scared. I heard the doctors tell my family that even the slightest pressure in this stage can cause permanent damage, and I will eventually die. I do not believe them. I command my hand to lift itself, but it’s impossible. One part of my brain, the ventral tegmental area, dies with that very thought of action. Continue reading “I’m alive!”