yeet or be yeeten

Message from Writer

"Interesting verbs are seldom very interesting." — Jonathan Franzen


April 24, 2018

Honor is dying. She doesn't want to admit it. She is battling her own monsters. Learning to defeat them. She knows she can't. From now, every day is worse than the last. The one truth that she begs not to hear is long-awaiting her. She knows she won't last in this world. But still, she can hope. This is a world full of demons, both literally and figuratively. This particular demon is commonly known as ”cancer”. A cliché illness, she knows. But who can help it? People may now say ”she fought hard” and such, but there is nothing anyone can do about it. There is no battle to fight. No middle, or even a  beginning. Only an end. She despised the chance, the fact that she would die any year now.

Honor knew the world to be a troubled place. She was a part of it. She was falling. Fast. Out of reach from those who could never really help her in the first place. Even with all this weight on her shoulders, she thought herself to be special. Maybe she could get through this. She despised the chance, the fact that she would die any month now.

The last day Honor went into the ER, she knew she wouldn't come out alive. Cliché. There was no fighting the fact. Honor’s whole life was one big fat cliché. As much as she tried to ignore that, it never went away. Sometimes Honor found herself pondering the meaning of life. She was going to die anyway, so why were all these people she didn't know trying to prevent it? She despised the chance, the fact the she would die any day now.

She despised that fact that she was gone.
This story is not based on a literal monster. Sorry to be so deep.


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  • April 24, 2018 - 9:23pm (Now Viewing)

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