~iota

The Bucket List. "Three months. We're sorry, but we did the best we could. It was too late." The words echoed through my ears as if from the end of a long corridor. I still believe that I had put up a good fight against cancer. But I lost. Nevertheless, I had three months before I die. Three months to live. The bus ride home was rather silent. People seemed to smile at me. Or was it just me trying to find a bright side? I didn't know. At home, I went and washed my face. A bald man looked back at me. The chemo had completely gotten rid of my hair. The pile of medicine on my dinner table were now pointless. I dumped all of it into the trash and collapsed on the sofa.   I never turned the lights on. The TV seemed to play something. I didn't want to watch it, but playing it in the background have a relief from the silence which seemed so deadly. It was way over my regular bedtime. Yet tonight, I didn't feel sleepy, nor hungry. I felt hel...