Not Yet…

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Some days of the week will be bad days…

You will probably lie down there, trying to look at the roof. You will most likely be too weak to even lift your head. It will weight a ton. You will stare into space but not see a thing. You will feel the life drain out of you. And your teeth clenching. It will be painful but you will probably not feel much. Only an annoying whiff of cold air caressing the tip of your nose. To you, your breathing will be just fine but in actuality it’ll be labored. Sprawled on that cold floor like a dying deer, you will try to think. You will be with your mind but it won’t be with you. Nothing will cross it other than how cold it is.  So you will try a lot harder. The only question that will come to your mind – after you summon all your strength – will be why you had to save your porn in a folder marked “Econometrics & Operations Research.


God won’t appear to you like He did in the Bible. No, that does not happen anywhere on earth these days. Though your head will be hurting, you won’t feel anything but cold. You will not feel the taste slipping out of your mouth or the strength ebbing out of your already limp body. Your mind certainly won’t recall the date that you were to have with the new bird who moved in next door. The one with orange skin and crimson lips. The one who smiles whenever she passes by your door even when you aren’t outside – you stalk her from your kitchen window.


You may want to call that guy three doors down who sweet-talked you into loaning him a little cash. But then again you won’t have much use for the cash anyway. So you will lie there looking but not seeing, trying to think but coming up with squat. You will run blank. The books you have read, the ones sitting on your bookshelf near the study desk, will stare down at you idly. Your asthma inhaler, the empty one, will lie there next to your limp hand. You won’t even feel your kidneys shutting down or your liver boiling up from the years of debauchery.


As you will be preparing to let go and allow whatever may, come, you will see a blurred image. Your eyes will be swollen and your sinuses will be pulling so hard. There will still be no pain though. That blurred image will seem to hold a scythe. Then with one last sigh, you will close your eyes and hope to wake up near St. Peter or Aaliyah or Whitney Houston. Of course your mind won’t process those thoughts, you will imagine them later on. You will feel something warm touch you, then darkness.


Time will pass but you will have no conception of that. You will not know whether you are still lying on the floor or on a warm bed somewhere. Or possibly on a pile of lawyers waiting for your turn in the eternal flames of hell. Your lips will be dry and chirped but you won’t feel them. So you will not reach for the lip balm that Janet left at your place when she dumped you last year. The one that tastes like cherry and makes you feel like kissing your own damn self in public. You will just lie there motionless.


Your phone will ring but you won’t hear it because you’re drifting into the other world while still trying to grasp on to this one. Not knowing where to lay your anchor. Your mind will be empty. There will be darkness around you, and sounds will be indiscernible. You won’t be able to tell whether you are here or there. You won’t even remember the juicy chunk of beef you left to thaw in the sink.Or the fact that your front door is not really locked.


Then like the first drops of rain on a grey morning, you will feel something cold touching your rib cage. Your thoughts will have started coming back by that time. And you will be imagining that the cold thing is the tine of a scythe. So you will try to lift your hand but it won’t move an inch. Then you will hear inaudible murmurs, and you will try to open your eyes but they will be too cloudy. Slowly but surely, your hearing will come back. And because you are a bright chap, you will tell you are in a hospital somewhere. Your sense of smell won’t come to visit you until later in the night. A scraggly face will be in your personal space.

And you will realize the cold thing on your rib cage is a stethoscope.


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