It's cloudy. It may be muggy/humid today. But it's cloudy and cool now and maybe that's why I woke up so early so I can enjoy the peaceful solitude and pretend I'm the only one for miles around. I see the brown tile roofs of the houses next door, then the even, geometric rectangles of the windows in the hospital across the street... but there's nobody in them during these times. When the sun is cruel to me and casts that light, waking everything up and bringing with it the chaos of reality, then I'll bitterly acknowledge the existence of others...
...but not now.
There's nobody in the houses, and only death in the hospital I see. I can say that with more than a little personal experience... I lost an uncle there, you see. One of the few related whom I did like. And he shouldn't have died... but they were incompetent. They didn't read his chart and realized he'd had surgery before. They didn't do any exploratory surgery so they'd know what his insides were like, including the scarring from previous operations. So they couldn't find the wound they had created and sew it back to keep him from bleeding to death on the table from a surgery that by all rights should have been simple, done, and over with in a matter of hours.
Not bitter... though there's something to be said for medical incompetence... but not bitter.
There's no reason to be bitter now.
I just know... there's death in that hospital.
It's little wonder I have such a fatalistic view towards living. If something were to happen to me, they'd take me there. Unless it's a gunshot or knife wound of some sort and I'm not already dying, then I'm dead if I go. I'd do better treating myself.
So I glance over there at the dark windows and wonder if any of the still breathing corpses are looking back. Some actually do make it out... but they are never the same.
A woman asked me not to make a derogatory comment about the hospital, claiming they saved her son's life. I told her they didn't save it, they stole my uncle's life and gave it to her son. She didn't talk to me anymore, for which I'm grateful.
I do find it a bit funny how people don't like hearing the truth, or my versions thereof.
I would not be surprised if someone told me there were no doctors there, simply necromancers. Not surprised at all.
And I look at the windows, dark from my viewpoint. And I swear I see Him there with the gleam of he curved blade reflecting the sunlight into my eyes.
But there's no sunlight today. Just me looking at him and wondering who he's going to pick up next.
I see a light in a room go out... I think he's found his dinner companion for the morning.
Time to look elsewhere.
Gloomy thoughts, utterly melancholy to anyone reading, if not tinged with macabre. But who wants to be cheerful and bright and happy and sunny all the time when the words never come then. And it's easy to take the words so dark, and still find a way to end on a note of hope, if one so desires. Not that I have hope. I'm a cynic, a jaded realist who only bothers 'because'. But the words are friends who have never truly failed when I need them most, even if I don't make them all hopeful. I know I can, which is more important.
And in another hospital, my premie femme cousin now has a strong grip on life. Mother and child will be fine.
So for death in one hospital with dark mages dressed in white, there's life in another with true healers in lab coats.
One day... I'll... yeah, one day...
Comments: 2 sighs
That. . . just touched me. I really don't know what else I can say besides; it touched me and reminded me of how my grandpa died very slowly in the hospital. -_-
Just wow. . .
It's a lot harder to write about something positive... and the words flow from the pen (or the keyboard, as the case may be) easier when it's not puppies and kittens and happily-ever-after, don't they?
Just harder to read afterwards, in my opinion.
( 7:49 a.m. )