Azrael Blinks

I have an appointment with my surgeon March 28th.

Finally?

Well, my family, particularly my mom, is starting to get all the concerns that I had when this whole transplant thing began; mainly, that the surgeon will fuck up and I'll die. I spent about three hours last night talking my mom through another bout of despair. She needs to believe that I'll survive the operation.

What do I believe? Honestly, I think I'll survive precisely because I don't want to survive it. I think I still have something left in this life to learn. I've already resigned myself to the belief that dreams are dreams and I have to focus on reality. I've given up ideas of being in the film business. I want to learn history, and perhaps teach it.

But quite honestly, it would be a real gift if something "bad" were to happen. This life bores me. Between the friends I have who feel like they want out as well, and the acquaintances who don't give a damn either way, I feel like what we call reality is a minimum-security prison designed to encourage people to stay, even though they are free to leave at any time.

I will not commit suicide because my religion explicitly forbids it, and all I have to go on is my faith. And if I do survive the transplant, I'll do what I have to in needs of continued survival. But I won't hang on to hope anymore.

As I wrote for a character once, hope is for the people who still believe in chance.