One day I will live to be great... just not today

I ripped the drip cord out of the arm and threw the bloody drip needle across the room. Blood pulsed quickly through my veins and out of my wound, staining the white, linen bed sheets scarlet. The feverish smell of blood stung up my nose. But in a freakishly weird way I liked it. I didn’t sense pain. It’s wasn’t pain if you feel it everyday… I heard the ‘beep’ of the electrocardiogram as a new set of green lines zigzagged across the screen. In a fit of rage I grabbed the whole machine and smashed it against the bedside table. The machinery shattered in my hands and the metallic remnants hit the floor with a crunchy, crisp sound like ice breaking at the start of spring. I held my hands up to my face; they were gory and embedded with metal chips that dug deep into my flesh. Blood was trickling out of my body everywhere, forming rivulets down my arm, pooling in my hand and running all over my gown. A wicked grin spread across my thin, pale white lips. Life was futile; it was just long enduring agony –torture– that we humans were born into. Doctors tell you to be optimistic but how can you when the people in this place wither and perish like decaying autumn leaves in an unkempt garden. They talk about love like it falls from the sky, but the truth is not everyone gets it. You have to deserve it. And when you’re in this mess no-one loves you. They prefer not to know you at all. Cassie was probably at home too busy painting her toe-nails to worry about her big brother and mum was just glad that I wasn’t in jail (only I was in this prison called hospital). Life was indestructible, you can’t win. But there was always death. That was sweeter than life itself. I grabbed the fruit knife from the fruit bowl that was sitting on the table. Maybe one day… maybe one day I’ll live to be great. But not today.