When I was born I was diagnosed with having a bad heart. For as long as I can remember, there were a lot of things in life that I had missed out on especially in my childhood. I never had the experience of middle or high school; no, my parents home-schooled me because they feared that my heart would not be able to handle the life of a normal adolescent. So I spent many of my years looking out a square window longing to have friends and run around and play with them. I guess that wasn’t meant for someone with a bad heart.
I was in and out of the hospital a lot. Any bit of stress or if I over-did anything my poor heart would stop. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve died and been resuscitated over the years. My parents weren’t pleased with a lot my antics and attempts to lead a normal life, but I didn’t want to live without living; that’s no life, but to them me being alive was more important than me living my life. For a while, I was angry with them but I understood. They are good parents.
There was this one day when I was walking up a hill. The climate was humid and hotter than any normal spring day here in Chicago. I was struggling to get up a simple hill when I suddenly collapsed. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital surrounded by my parents and smiling doctors. I was told that I had died and been resuscitated; however, a heart from a donor had matched me and they did the surgery right away. I admit I was in a bit of shock learning that my heart was not my own, but now I may have a chance at actually living my life.
Several months later I was living on my own, exercising, and living my life. I no longer was limited by the effects of my own heart. I was active and outside almost every day, but this happiness didn’t last for long.
Now most people would look into the life of the person that had given them they’re organ. I wasn’t one of those people. I was more excited about living for once that the person who died and donated their organ never crossed my mind. Not until I started having these weird urges. One day I was at home watching a horror film alone when an odd sensation entered my body. It sent chills down my spine and my blood boiled so much I got an erection. I wanted to see blood spill by my own hands.
I shook the feeling from me and continued to watch the movie with my boner still intact. I finally settled down later and fell asleep. The next morning I was feeling a bit foggy waking up, but I felt satisfied and sated. Initially I put it on a good night’s sleep until I saw the blood. My pajamas were drenched in it.
Image by: Pedro Felipe
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