Waiting for a new heart is like waiting for love: you spend ages waiting and it never comes.

I need a new heart because something’s eating me. The doctor told me the science but I stopped listening when he said ‘cancer’.

I’d lived my whole wretched life without cancer and now, when my life seemed to be brightening it comes.

Life. That word makes me laugh. Some life! My life is a series of horrors linked by grey pavements.
Never happy. Never smiling. “Emo”, “goth”, “ungrateful brat.”

And now it seems my ‘life’ is over. Looking up, I see beyond the grey NHS ceiling; up to the clouds and beyond, until I stare right into God’s eyes.
“Is this what you want?” I seem to say. “Is this all I am to you? A toy to stick your needles in?”

He doesn’t answer. Nobody ever answers.

And now I lie in this hospital bed as the last pulse ebbs from my body. I don’t hear the monotonous tone beside me, or see my mother’s tears.

I fall into darkness. The rest is silence.

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