The sky was splattered with pale pinks and yellows reminding me greatly of cat sick. I turned towards the mirror. It was all gone. Every last strand. I’ve never considered myself a shallow person. But I was hideous. I really had lost everything now. I’d lost my hair I’d lost my life, and now I feared I was losing my mind. The sudden realisation hit me like a slap to the face. I would
die. And just like that my last bubble of hope burst. In its place a searing pain was created. I had honestly believed by some miracle that I would get through this. My eyes were blinded by white fire tears that burned my cheeks. Any second could be my last and that thought filled me with dread. Clamping my hands around me I shook I shook in rhythm to the ticking off the clock. Each chime was a precious second gone and wasted. The minutes and hours blended together as my body numbed. Was this the end?
My fingers were getting cold now. I wondered how long this fall would take. My hands were going numb. Is that what happens when you die? I suppose it would be nice for everything to be numb. To have no more ugly feelings to creep up and pounce on you like a tiger to a deer. They take over and make you lose control. And that’s what people are most terrified of. Losing control.
I’d been parachute jumping since I was twelve. It had started off as a birthday present from my parents that soon became a regular hobby. Most people parachute jump for the rush and fear. I do it because it tests your control. It gives you the power to control the elements and control where you land or how long you stay in the air. Then the illness got in the way. I’d gone to plan a final parachute jump. They turned me down. They said I was uninsurable, an indefinite risk. The rejection raised all of my carefully concealed emotions. The aching pain in my chest returned. I clawed at my skin trying desperately to tear the pain away. The unfairness of my predicament attacked at my brain. I had lost all control. Without my control I had nothing.
I was close enough to the ground to see a long black line. As it got closer I realised it was a road. I could just about make out the small cars whizzing past. A dainty red car caught my eye. Its bug like features and sticking out ears made it look alive. The thin ariel on the roof shook madly in the wind. I could now see the women driving it. Her hair was pulled back tightly from her face. The contrast of her blonde hair to the dark roots made it obvious she hadn’t dyed it recently. Her eyes were focused straight ahead. She would never see me coming.
“I runne to death and death meets me just as fast” John Donne.