As I lie here, alone and fading, I feel there is nothing more to do than reflect and wait. However, the last thing I want is to come across as pitiful, or sad, or lonely, even though I must confess to being all of the above. life is a strange gift, it is something we do not ask for, yet we accept it as a necessity. Now, when I look back, I see all the time wasted. I can see now how I continued to spend all that time living with the intention of living, even though I knew I must die. I use the term 'living' loosely, because of my delusion that I would continue to live, it allowed me to continue in a state of routine, where nothing changed, no rights were wronged and nothing was done to make my life have some form of purpose once again.
It's a sad thing to admit, and most definitely a sad thing to realise, that you have spent very little of your life actually living, that you have spent so much of your time on autopilot without considering or acknowledging it, that when the end inevitably comes, you will regret each of those moments not fully cherished.
My memory has faded somewhat, but I remember the reasons why I find myself alone in this hospital. There are so many. I could list how I pushed away each and every person, but in the end it would only serve to remind me of my mistakes and my regret. Despite this, it ought to be said that I am entirely to blame for my own downfall. I have lived my life in ignorance and reinforced it with arrogance and stubbornness, if I could take it back- if I could take everything back- I would. I would plead with my friends to forgive, I would beg my lovers not to leave me and I would have been there for my family, because they were always there for me.
Alas, we cannot turn back time, all I can do is wallow in regret of moments wasted, hoping that somehow it will make a difference.
One of the great ironies of life- at least in mind- is that humanity strives for happiness, and yet is constantly dissatisfied with their lot. Rich and poor, black and white, men and women, all of them strive for more. All of them are miserable, and all of them end up in the same place once they are dead.
The end is coming soon. I can feel it, and it scares the hell out of me. I wish I could confide in someone, I wish there was someone to assure me that everything is going to be fine, but the truth is, even if there was someone here to tell me as much, I wouldn't believe them. We don't know what happens when we die, some of us claim to know, but nothing can be proven, nothing is certain, heaven and hell are just as likely as reincarnation, and reincarnation is just as likely as nothing at all. Either way, I am terrified, even though I know I have nothing left to live for, the end still scares me.
I suppose I should finish writing and close my eyes for a while, I have been drowsy for a long time now, maybe it is all the sedatives that are being pumped into my system, or maybe it is the illness, either way, it is useless resisting.
Before I go however, I did want to say one thing. I wanted to say I am sorry, to everyone I ever wronged, to everyone and anyone I ever pushed away or hurt, I am sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I lived my life as a spiteful human being, and I cannot ever forgive myself, but I loved you, I loved all of you, even the ones I hated, because you gave my life purpose, and without you, my life would have meant nothing.
So it would seem that is it. I needed to say sorry and thank you. I can't forget my manners. I simply wish my final thoughts to be that of thankfulness. I will be thankful to join those I have lost, mostly my dear mother who I have missed for over thirty years, I will be with her soon, and for that too, I am thankful.
This will be the last memoir I write. The last words I put on paper. I suppose there should be some kind of conclusion or catharsis, something that ties all loose ends and wraps everything up nicely, but I don't have that power. Really, there is only word left to say, and that word is: