--Undying fire--

I wonder if you will feel it.

Feel it, as I did. A fire, burning through my veins. Setting my whole being alight. Given no comfort other than fake platitudes and a pat on a blazing shoulder. A pat, as writing tip touched writing paper, and fingertips pressed fingered keys. Uncaring eyes behind uncaring glass writing uncaring words. Watching, as I scream my life's breath.

You say nothing, but you wonder if they warned me. You wonder if there was decency in the eyes that knew only to inflict pain. You wonder, or actually, you don't. Your voice in my head does so instead. But it doesn't matter. I'm not picky about who talks to me as long as someone does. You offer more than they ever did. You offer stillness, calmness, and relief. It's more than I can say of them. Yes, they told me it would hurt. They said I would feel pain like no other, but don't let that confuse you. It wasn't decency that made them tell me. It was curiosity.

Sorry. I'm prattling on. The pleasure of your company is at fault for that. Despite our confined proximity, I often find we live in different worlds. It's a shame, really. We grew to be like family over the past few years, yet we know so little of each other. We barely listen to the melancholy of the present, let alone our dreams of the future. But you're different. You offer a kindness few others do, often greeting our colleagues' eccentricities with a judge-free smile.

Even now. You don't react as I take out the syringe. You ignore the forming drop as I press the plunger. You know, It sounds crazy, but I understand that little drop - fighting desperation as it hangs onto the needle before surrendering to the never-ending force of gravity. I know how the drop feels when it realizes that gravity will win. I have surrendered once before, too. No, not merely giving up. That's the common misinterpretation. To surrender isn't to postpone a decision, giving the pretense of giving up as the mind works the problem, testing and trying different angles to a solution. That is merely a delay, or a bluff. No, to surrender is to relinquish yourself to something out of your control. To know in your soul that there is simply no outcome you can influence. That there is no ending that will favor you, and it will happen no matter what you do. To surrender is to completely embrace whatever fate lies ahead, knowing it won't be favorable. It's to lose hope. Completely.

I sigh. No one would understand, not even you. But you listen, and I appreciate it. Somehow, I think we're alike. We both knocked at Death's door. Maybe we should be glad that Death wasn't home that day. Or perhaps he was and wanted to be alone. I don't blame him. I don't like his company, and I doubt you have anything to say. Don't worry, I'm not delusional. I know we all must eventually knock on his door, but I intend for his invitation to gather some more dust first. Do you think Death has allergies?

A vibration through my arm signals the end of our conversation. Visiting hours are always so short, which is a pity. Your silence is the most peace I've enjoyed in the past two months. I'm slightly jealous, in a way. Your unconsciousness shields you. It's a warm blanket to curl up on a cold, windy day. I didn't have that luxury. Do not fret; I don't intend to take your blanket away from you. There is humanity in me after all.

But still, I can't help but wonder.

Wonder if you will feel it...