Olivia's writing - Signed Susanne

Signed, Susanne
I don’t like my family. I’m the youngest of five, and don’t believe what they say about the youngest always getting their own way. I was ‘The Accident’. You see, my parents always wanted four kids, two girls, two boys. Crazily enough, that’s what they had. Suddenly, Mother realised she was pregnant with me. It was too late; she had to go through with it. Father was gutted.

Sometimes I wonder why I was born. I have dyslexia, my oldest brother Daniel is the most gifted writer I know. I struggle with maths, and get 1’s and 7’s, and 8’s and 9’s mixed up. Valerie, she’s on an Honours Maths programme. And so on and so forth. (Picked that up from Henry). It’s like all the good traits have already been handed out and when I was born I was left with nothing.

So you’re probably wondering what a good for nothing, dyslexic kids doing writing a diary. Well, you see, I want to be remembered after I die. So other kids, girls and boys alike will see their not the only ones. Because I will most definitely die. I have Cardiac Sarcoma, or as you might know it, Heart Cancer.

It’s rare and advanced. There is a 99% chance I will die next week, in my operation. The doctor said hold onto that 1% hope, but I won’t. Mother and Father are gonna shove me away out the back of a cupboard. They call it cremating, but I think they couldn’t be bothered wasting their time and money sorting out a funeral. They have taken down the few photos of me, leaving white squares on the walls. Already, they have already repainted my small room cream, and sold or chucked away my stuff. I think they really want me to die. I do too. I will be out the way then.

Later:
So, I walked into the hospital, and asked if there was anywhere I could park my bike. The desk lady looked puzzled and asked if I was here for a cancer operation. I simply replied yes. She asked where my parents are. I had mumbled that they had been busy and couldn’t come. She looked astonished and said she would get the caretaker to lock it in the shed for me.

“Ok honey, just close your eyes and count to ten”. The doctor’s words ran around my head again. No one has ever called me that again, or spoken in a tone so gentle. So, goodbye cruel, cruel world, I thought. One, Two, Three, Fouuur, Fiveeee....

Blearily, I opened my eyes and stared at the light above me. I sat up. This doesn’t look like heaven. It looks like a hospital... Randomly, a man in a long white coat came in and congratulated me and informed me I am one very lucky girl, while a kindly but vigorous lady plumed one of the many duck- down pillows behind me.

It hit me. I’m alive. This can’t be happening. I am meant to be dead. Gone. Lifeless. Deceased. Expired. Departed. Pushing up the daises. That is why, $2 shop notepad, I am going to run. I am going to run and run and run, away from here. I can’t deal with this life, my life anymore. I feel like ripping my body from limb to limb. I feel like I need to feel something, even if it is pain. I am going to die, even if I cause it. Goodbye, reader.

Signed, Susanne

Author’s Note:
We don’t know what happened to this child. She simply disappeared. One of the nurses found this slipped under the mattress of her deserted hospital bed. Suzanne’s parents never enquired for her. Child Physiatrists show that Susanne had a serious case of depression. Police are searching lakes and woods. R.I.P Susanne, wherever you may be.