Memento Mori

Today is April 31st, my last day on this wonderful Earth. It’s currently 12:05 a.m.; not even the sun has come to greet me in the hopes of cheering up my sorrow-filled heart. Even when I'm writing this down, my hand still trembles. I mean, whose hands wouldn’t tremble as they prepare to be embraced by the cold, skinless hands of death?

Ah, but my tears have all but been spent on myself. It’s one of the reasons why this is my third attempt to write all this down in my journal. That, and the fact that my hands quaked so much that whatever I wrote down became illegible. I do hope whoever gets my journal enjoys reading through my mindset as I battled with the clutches of death; I hope you recognize that I did not give up until no hope remained.

Shoot, I’m doing it again. Sorry, I’m not trying to bring the mood down. Anyway, I got my affairs in order. My parents have heard my final words. They will not be here today, as I begged them not to come, out of fear that my heart will scream for more time. Other than that, I’ve got my will in order. Though I’m just a kid and don’t own much, I gave as much as I could to charity. My PlayStation, however, will not be given away to anyone but my younger brother, who has barely known this world and will barely know me.

It’s sort of funny that I love a creature (my brother) who cannot even say my name right. Sorry, little brother, if you’re reading this, I love you. Let’s see, let’s see. Sorry, I know I’m kind of rambling. Hard not to really; part of my mind is at peace, but the other half is so desperate to write every possible thought and idea that comes to mind. Why? I don’t know why. Maybe to have some proof that I existed. That I was someone.

Oh! I got it. I’ll talk about the love letter I previously mentioned I was writing in other journal entries. The letter will arrive to her after I am dead, more than likely. Yes, I know, quite cruel. At least I made sure to apologize for that in the letter; hell, even I recognized the cowardice of my actions. But if I’m going to die, I’m going to at least manage to tell the girl who I’ve had a crush on for years that I liked her. Which I guess kind of sucks for her, especially if she likes me back. But hey, I’m playing with house money here. Either way, I’ve accomplished my goal, and soon she will forget about me.

Ah but I doubt I’ll ever forget about her. I mean her shiny curly hair, her weird reluctance to wearing her glasses that made her even greater than the most beautiful girl in the world. Obviously the most beautiful girl in the world is her without the glasses. Nor will I forget out witty back and forths that made others think we were an old married couple... ah, the good times.

Man, it would really suck if she liked me, though.

My apologies; I can no longer stay awake. Within these final days, I find my strength evading me like a cruel game of hide and seek. I must rest, but before I die, I will make sure to make one last entry.

...

I’ve slept the entire day. My last day on Earth, and I spent it dreaming of her. Oh, how cruel this world is! I mean, it couldn’t cut me some slack, like I don’t know, maybe not making me dream of us having a family together, living on a nice-sized farm with two wonderful children.

Anyway, I’m on borrowed time; the reaper is here. Yes, I mean that literally. He is sitting next to my hospital bed with his legs folded and a relaxed expression on his face. Oddly enough, he isn’t just made of bones, wears a dark cloak, and holds a scythe. No, instead—or at least to me—he appears as a dark man in a dark blue suit that he fills out quite nicely.

He says compliments won’t buy me more time. It was at least worth a shot, I guess. Anyway, he’s allowing me to fill out my last entry before I go. Go where, you might ask? He didn’t say exactly where; he just said to be judged. Yeah, yikes! If I had strength in my body, I think I would be fighting him tooth and nail. At last, I have no strength left, even writing this is exhausting. Glad my parents aren’t here.

The reaper also said that I would lose that battle badly. Oddly enough, the reaper seemed to have a sense of humor. I kind of find myself liking the middle-aged man with hands larger than the world itself, and I even feel comforted by the warm aura that man naturally emits.

I’m being told to wrap it up. He said it’s bad enough that he manipulated reality to give a poor soul such as myself an extra day, a day that previously did not exist.

Okay... here it goes. The last bang! Well, guys, I did it. I lived, though not for a long time. Nor was it a particularly brave life, but a life of cowardice. Yet, again, I lived! I lived! I was given the greatest gift on the Earth... life! Though the gift is being taken back by whatever supreme being gave it to me, I still got to live. Create memories, cry, enjoy food... so much food. I think I’ll miss my mother’s cooking the most.

To whoever reads this: the reaper is a nice man... at least this one is. Not sure how their system works. But still, be a good person and you’ll have nothing to worry about. Well, that’s a lie; I think I was a good person when I lived, but even I’m terrified of being judged.

Memento Mori; therefore, Carpe Diem.