Hope
Blurry visions — white walls and ceilings,
Nasogastric tube was attached on my nose.
Omnipresent smell of antiseptics enveloped my olfactory nerve.
This is not new to me —
I always end up waking with this kind of scenery.
"Hey, welcome back to the time being alive,kiddo!"
I looked at my cheer leader sympathetically.
He look so pale and those dark circles under his eyes shows me that he hadn't slept for weeks.
And he's still wearing his clothes that he wore before I became unconscious.
He's been with me ever since I've got this disease, and it's hurting me like crazy when I always notice that he'd lost so much weight, because of me.
His fat,soft and wiggly tummy difused, like an air-bed that has a tiny hole. He doesn't care about himself anymore. And I hated my self for that.
I welled up my eyes to stop the tears from falling, not because I regained my consciousness for the 12th time, but because my dad look so pathetic.
I smiled at him and squeezed his warm and big hand that was holding mine for about—maybe an hour, days, or weeks? Who knows?
Just to let him know that I'm fine and really grateful that I have him everytime I woke up in this white-open-vast-benevolent and lonesome facility.
It really broke my heart into million of pieces whenever I saw my Dad exhausted,worried and tired, because of me.
He don't deserve all of this, he don't deserve the suffering,pain, guilt and great responsibility everytime my fcking weak heart decided to stop and not pumps blood through my circulatory system!
I'm nothing but a burden to him and people like me, do not deserve to live.
"You should get a rest." I murmured with a puking voice due to the dryness of my throat.
He have no idea how much he's killing me right now. I'd rather die, than seeing my dad miserable.
"I'm okay kiddo. Don't worry about me— wait, do you want or need something? I'll get it for you." He ask-offered and tried to stand-up, but I stopped him by grabbing his bicep. He took a heavy sigh and forced himself to take a seat.
I don't know what to do with him anymore. Because he's a hard headed old man!
He's not even listening to me everytime I try to convince him to get some rest,enjoy his life — go fishing, do productive things and forget about me.
"Dad, you should get a life." I stated in a more convincing way that I could.
His gripped of my hand tighten.
"I already have mine. You should get yours." His emphasized words penetrated my whole being.
What does he mean by that? I mean-- I get him, but I don't totally get him.