Even if I try to press the nurse call button, my vision is narrow, it’s gotten dark, and I don’t even know where it is.
This incredibly painful heart, these lungs that won’t breath; they tell me that I don’t have any time left.
And even though this is something I’ve prepared myself for countless times, my heart is rejecting this end with all its power; I don’t want to die like this.
I lived a life that couldn’t bring joy to a single person.
I became bound to a bed before I entered school, so I don’t have a single friend.
Even the nurses that treated me kindly drew the line of our relationship as a professional one.
I know that even my parents, somewhere in their hearts, thought badly of this weak life of mine that wouldn’t die all this time.
I’m sure that even if I die, everyone will forget me.
These white sheets, this pile of books, the mechanical sounds of this medical equipment; that’s all that exists in this world that surrounds me.
Memories of running about under the sun, were something impossible for me to have.
I’ve never played with somebody with all my might, nor gotten in a fight with anyone.
A memory happy enough that I’ll never forget it; such a thing doesn’t exist even in my mind
Aaah, really, what a sad life.
Being all alone like this, isn’t how I want to die.
For me to die without anyone missing me…
For me to die after living such an empty life…
But, it isn’t as though these feelings won’t take away the pain that my heart feels.
It’s the end.
Even if I call for the nurses, I’ll die.
In that case…
I reach out my trembling hand, to the book on the table beside me.
I might not be able to reach it.
I might not be able to hold it.
But, at the very least,
even if this life of mine doesn’t leave anything behind, at the very end, I want to die feeling happy.
I want to touch this beloved, adored, dream-like, hope-filled book of mine.
If I can be born again, this time, I want to live like him.
My stretched out hand, dropped to the white sheets, empty.