The ballad of Jane Doe

Whilst exploring an old abandoned building I found an old journal belonging to a 16 year old girl. The year marked 2045, that was almost four decades ago. “There’s no name…A Jane Doe.” 

August 3, 2045

The days go by now as if minutes ticking by on a clock. Each breath 1 closer to my last. Only 2 weeks ago I got put in this place. 20,160 minutes since my life became this bed and this room. The walls plastered with clean white, I miss my Ivory walls. I asked mom to bring some of my things but she says she's too busy, what could be more important in this situation!? Work? Ironic isn’t it always complaining about wanting a reason not to go in but then finally once I’m here she’s too busy to even make me feel somewhat at home. So for now it's just walls of white and this bed. You’d think they would make the room more lively, no pun intended. The only decor being old motivational posters, some get well soon flowers, and a dead cockroach no one has cared for except me. I’ve asked them 20 times to get rid of it but it still sits there as if showing off that it doesn’t have to suffer like me. 

August 5, 2045

I seriously don’t know how anyone gets any sleep in this place, constantly there are people walking through the halls, crying loved ones, etc etc. And I haven’t been able to sleep a wink! One might think their final days would be peaceful and eye opening to your life leading up to this moment. But I would describe it as the final days before I am at peace for this nightmare they call a healthcare facility. Even the food sucks, what happened to our funding! I would like to at least eat something good before I can’t eat at all! Some of my classmates came to see me…some of them seemed as if they were forced to look at me. I felt like a freak on display. All these tubes and wires attached to me make me feel almost like an experiment. They visited to make me feel better but it only made me feel worse. All of them think I’m going to be back in a few days but really I won’t be back. I'm not supposed to know but I heard my mother and father cry when the doctors told them the news. Don’t I deserve to know or are they waiting for it to be my time before telling me. I’m ready to go home, just get up out of this bed, rip the IV from my arm and GO HOME. 

August 8, 2045

Today, it finally sunk in. I’m not going to get married, or graduate, or even have a family. I've lived for 16 years but it feels like I haven’t truly lived at all . And I've always tried to live my life to the fullest but now it doesn’t seem that way…I feel almost empty, soon nothing about life is going to matter, my passions won’t be remembered, my laugh won’t echo in people's hearts. No one really knows, all of my friends are still clueless. When should I tell them? What should I tell them? How would they react? What would they think? Would they cry? Would they even care? Maybe they will blow me off and finally say that they never cared for me, what if I was such a horrible friend that they would let out a sigh or relief that I'll finally be gone. Soon all I'll be is memory forgotten but still there waiting to be remembered. Maybe it's for the best.

August 11, 2045

The nurse read my journal…They’re  making me talk to a therapist. Like it will matter. And besides everyone does it, overthink until there is nothing to think about, think of every possible outcome until you are so prepared nothing can surprise you. And truly that pain of those possible outcomes made me desperate to actually fight, gave me a reason to reach for the littlest sliver of hope and relief, just to make the future not hurt. My sister finally visited, she looked as if she had been crying. I wonder why? I don’t understand why everyone has to treat me like a piece of glass, out of all the times, to treat me like a human now is the most important, I want to still live my life as if nothing has changed. I need people to stop tiptoeing around me as if any slight sound or movement might break me. I'm still normal…right?

August 13, 2045

Today my breathing got worse so now I'm wearing a mask for help.. It’s uncomfortable, like when you can’t itch a bug bite because it’ll make it worse. Now the days go by like hours you don’t pay attention and it's already the next day. I don’t know how to feel truly, should I feel happy that the suffering will end or should I feel sad for the loss of all the joys in my life. What does death feel like? Will I know I'm dead?

August 15, 2045

Seems my health is declining faster by the day. Yesterday I was full of energy, today I'm not. My brother finally came to visit from college in Illinois, he was trying to hold back tears. I’ll miss him the most though we never got along. I love him so much. Not to say I don't love the rest of my family of course. 

August 16, 2045

The Doctor finally said it out loud to me, I’m going to die. He said at first they didn’t know if i was going to truly die but now they are sure. At least I know I won’t suffer for much longer. I’m waiting now almost with a sense of anticipation. This all feels like a fever dream…Am I truly going to die? Will I truly turn into a random thought in someone's mind one day? Will anyone ever read my words?

August 19, 2045

I can feel myself coming in and out of consciousness. I feel it is my time, the time I've dreaded but still waited for with almost open arms. I finally saw myself in the mirror…I cried. That reflection wasn’t me, it wasn’t me at all. I was once so full of love and hope. But now I'm ready to accept my fate in death's arms. I don’t know myself anymore, what was my favorite drink, snack, hobby??? Now it’s just one thing on my mind. Maybe it won’t be that bad.  I’ll miss my family. I'll miss my dogs. I’ll miss my ivory walls. I’ll miss my future. 

August 20, 2045

 The doctors say I have a few more days but I don’t believe them. My heart rate monitor has slowed down a lot. Who knows, maybe it's today…

And that’s where her story ends. But how could it end that way? What happened to her? I searched around the office and found an old newspaper. The title read “16 year old girl found dead.” Could this be her? It must be right? I continued to read it. Many who knew her believed she had died of her disease but her story didn’t end that way. The doctors told her that she had a few days left but after a week of waiting for that relief, death didn’t come for her. In an act of desperation to escape the world that had collapsed around her, the morning of August 27, 2045, a gloomy morning on that roof.  Her fate was found. Plummeting into the arms of death to finally end that suffering. Many expect a happy ending, hell I expected a happy ending but where’s the reality in that. She was getting better but that wasn’t what she had wanted…But why? Her suffering was ending? Time has wasted her presence away. Her friends, her family…her name. As I set the newspaper down, I take in mind the room I'm in. The walls white but covered in a thick layer of untouched dust. Ripped posters on the walls. And an empty vase, flowers absent but still there in thought. The air is stagnant, no one has been here for awhile but these hallways still echo with constant footsteps and tears. My condolences to the girl whose name will never be whispered. My condolences to the girl whose skin will never be touched. I take in the sunlight as I leave this place for good. It was never my business but at the same time I still felt as if she wanted her words read. As I let out a deep breath, “Perdi” escapes my silent mouth. A name with no meaning to others but so much meaning to me. A whisper of a name no one has heard for a whisper of a girl no one will ever know.