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we had all grown used to seeing me in a hospital bed
but this time, 
i don’t know if i’ll pull through.

my mother is a brilliant woman.
strong and tenacious.
i can feel her anxiety building
as my blood pressure lowers each hour
she is silently screaming
i learned that from her.
her tears are guarded by 
the pressure of being
my mom.

but there’s just so much
and i cannot carry it all,
not alone. 
i try to breathe
a wheeze escapes me
i choke on my own air supply,
the thing that gives me life
is now killing me.
my mother lets a sob escape,
but quickly falls back into
her stoic facade. 

i see the bright blue of my father’s jacket
he walks past the window
of my room
for the first time. 
when the doorknob squeaks
and the room is exposed,
my father smiles at me.
a fake smile,
a pained smile,
but a smile nonetheless.

i have never seen my father cry.
he is not emotionless,
he is not stoic.
it just seems as though
this man was not meant to cry
as if this life was built for his smiles only.

but he walks in,
and nearly falls to the ground.
the beeping of the heart monitor 
almost drowns out
the sounds of his cries
as he sits in a puddle of his own tears.
almost. 

my body is connected to machines
like a droid,
waiting for myself to power off.
i don’t feel afraid,
but i begin to regret.
maybe i wanted to live,
maybe i’m not ready to die.
maybe i’m just too terrified
of the sounds of my father’s sobs.

i inhale.
i exhale. 
one breath at a time.
when i cry until i have no tears left,
i use my free arm to sit myself up.
i feel like a fish out of water,
my body is not mine.
but i sit up,
and for the first time in days,
i speak. 
my voice is hoarse,
the air is tense. 
i press the button
to summon the nurse.
a young woman in scrubs 
rushes in.
“Please,”
I say,
“I want to live.”

i did it.
my father is no longer crying.
my mother softens her face.
if only my words
that made the whole floor light up,
were not a life.
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