Today I went to Bogor to visit a friend of my dad's. Yea it was a bit traffic. And the thing is, I wasn't sleepy at all. My friends were busy with their own so I've got nothing to do with my cell phone. It was damn cold in the car. We were listening to The Banery's songs and also some oldies. We were quiet. My mom and bro were asleep.
So, I was just swimming in my imagination. Taking each breath then it was exhaled in my imagination. Every breath brought me to my deeper imagination. Suddenly my heart started to beat faster, faster, and faster. I was almost out of breath. It was damn tough. It was too difficult to breathe. My lungs were full of smoke. Damn. I didn't feel alive in reality. My imagination. I started to muse. It was just me, and the world inside me. Hello, weirdo. Bye bye reality, I'll be right back.
So, I was just swimming in my imagination. Taking each breath then it was exhaled in my imagination. Every breath brought me to my deeper imagination. Suddenly my heart started to beat faster, faster, and faster. I was almost out of breath. It was damn tough. It was too difficult to breathe. My lungs were full of smoke. Damn. I didn't feel alive in reality. My imagination. I started to muse. It was just me, and the world inside me. Hello, weirdo. Bye bye reality, I'll be right back.
I think it's time to write about my thoughts.
I imagined the death. The death of me. The death of someone like me. Will it be tragic? Will people cry? Will people miss me? Okay. These days I am really into that topic. I often think to myself about my death. I want to find out about it. Oh man I just can't stop thinking about it.
And my worries are, will people miss me? Or they'll forget me? That simple?
These things just came to my mind when I was down. I've figured everything out. About how I'll die, how people see me for the last time, how my funeral will be like. I was just thinking about it. It was like a wedding plan. But this is about death, much different than the wedding.
It reminded me of someone I know. Call her A, she's around 40. Okay, so A is having a brain cancer. It's sad. I feel sorry for her. Her friends usually visit her in the hospital. She looks happy, so happy. She doesn't look like dying or something. She doesn't look agonized. She's happy. Her face is still pretty. She doesn't look pale at all. She looks like a healthy person.
But unfortunately, her hair is no longer there. She is bald.
It was because the chemo. And chemo is not really a good way though.
She is rich, very rich. But sadly, she has no family to be with her, to love her, to care about her.
I know she feels lonely. She isn't happy.
She is not happy at all. She must be.
The doctor said she only had one year left. One year left?
Yeah, one year left. To live. One year left to live.
One day, a catholic priest (and anyway A is a Buddhist) came to visit her in the hospital. He shook her hand, and held it for a second. Then he stared at her eyes.
The priest said to one of A's friends, "although she looks very and she always laughs with all of you, her heart was cut into pieces. She is broken."
Yes, the thing is, cancer is that bad. But those people are tough. People with cancer still look happy although they're bald because of the chemo. People with cancer still smile although the pain is there, agonizing and killing them. People with cancer still laugh although they know when they will die.
Sometimes, I think about it till I feel asleep. I can't take it out of my mind.
I imagined the death. The death of me. The death of someone like me. Will it be tragic? Will people cry? Will people miss me? Okay. These days I am really into that topic. I often think to myself about my death. I want to find out about it. Oh man I just can't stop thinking about it.
And my worries are, will people miss me? Or they'll forget me? That simple?
These things just came to my mind when I was down. I've figured everything out. About how I'll die, how people see me for the last time, how my funeral will be like. I was just thinking about it. It was like a wedding plan. But this is about death, much different than the wedding.
It reminded me of someone I know. Call her A, she's around 40. Okay, so A is having a brain cancer. It's sad. I feel sorry for her. Her friends usually visit her in the hospital. She looks happy, so happy. She doesn't look like dying or something. She doesn't look agonized. She's happy. Her face is still pretty. She doesn't look pale at all. She looks like a healthy person.
But unfortunately, her hair is no longer there. She is bald.
It was because the chemo. And chemo is not really a good way though.
She is rich, very rich. But sadly, she has no family to be with her, to love her, to care about her.
I know she feels lonely. She isn't happy.
She is not happy at all. She must be.
The doctor said she only had one year left. One year left?
Yeah, one year left. To live. One year left to live.
One day, a catholic priest (and anyway A is a Buddhist) came to visit her in the hospital. He shook her hand, and held it for a second. Then he stared at her eyes.
The priest said to one of A's friends, "although she looks very and she always laughs with all of you, her heart was cut into pieces. She is broken."
Yes, the thing is, cancer is that bad. But those people are tough. People with cancer still look happy although they're bald because of the chemo. People with cancer still smile although the pain is there, agonizing and killing them. People with cancer still laugh although they know when they will die.
Sometimes, I think about it till I feel asleep. I can't take it out of my mind.
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