!!! WARNING!!!
this is another of these 'get rid of something'-posts, perhaps the worst one ever. if you are currently in a happy state of mind and don't really want to change that, please stop reading right here. really.

remember those movies in which someone is told that he has X [hours/days/months/years] to live left? remember that people always start saying things like "oh, well, then i should perhaps start sorting things out..."? is that reality?
imagine yourself some years from now. you are married happily, have two children, some grandchildren even. you are about 70 or 80 years old (nobody cares and you lost count some years ago) and lead a life of contentedness. yet it's not perfect. all the little problems your body starts to make, the little works that get more difficult from year to year, the way to the garage that seems to grow longer with every passing day, all that makes you think about yourself, about your future. you feel quite well, although you may have had some smaller problems.
now, you start to feel bad. all that ends with you lying in hospital, counting your last days, your last hours. nobody, including you, knows how long it is going to take but you are unable to sort anything out - just because you cannot leave your bed. you can't even stand the pain when the nurse turns you from one side to the other.
imagine you, lying there in what will probably (likely) be the last hours of your life and you are unable to do anything. you feel bad, incredibly bad but you also feel sorry for everyone else, everyone that cares for you, that nurses you, that remains sitting at your bed holding your hand. you feel sorry for wasting their time, for not simly giving up and ending their suffering - as well as yours. there are so many things you would like to say, so many things you would like to do, you think you have to do, but you can't do anything. your life (what is left of it) consists of waiting for someone to come with the next injection that stops the next wave of pain flowing through your half-dead body.

can you imagine what this is like? do you know what you would do? i don't. and, really, i don't want to think about it. hey, i'm eighteen, why should i care about dying, about suffering. why don't i think about life, about what lies in front of me, rather than thinking what goes on for other people at the moment. i don't want to think about it yet. but i have to. and it hurts so incredibly much - to know your limits, getting to know them because someone bangs your head against the wall telling you that you can't go through, that you can't change anything about something like that. and although it may sound cruel, although it may sound as if you didn't feel anything at all - you just don't want to live [what an exaggeration] like this.

a song for the hopeless... just watch the fireworks by jimmy eat world:

    here, you can be anything
    anything that scares you
    a thing that scares you
    here, i've been here before
    but only by myself
    by myself
    i promised, i'd see it again
    i promised, i'd see this with you now...
    what giving-up gives you
    and where giving-up takes you
    i've had it, i've been
    here in center frame
    there's only air
    and just enough space to fit
    i said, said, said it out loud over and over
    i said, said, said it out loud for what did i know
    i said, said, said it out loud over and over
    i said, said, said it out loud over and over
    i said, said, said it out loud but it did not help
    i'll stop now, just so i can hear you
    i stay up as as late as it takes
    as long as it takes

thanks for your attention - although i told you not to read... thank you.
charon

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