A Confession

I'm not ready for this. Never was, never will. At first when those experts told me I didn't believe it. But after having second, third opinion I finally relented. This is the end, I have it...

Deep down I still have my doubt. I understand the risk, at the end it could get me there’s no denying it. But so far I’ve done what I can to minimize it—haven’t I tried hard enough? And look at the others. They’re the same with me but why don’t they get it? Some guys were even lucky enough to get around it and died peacefully with their dignity intact. Why can’t I?

There was a time when I used to look down on those who have it. I thought, “I'm not going to be like you my poor brothers. Look at me, a healthy and perfectly functioning human being, proudly cheating it. I’m not going to get it, that’s for sure”. But now I can understand their agony. I admire them for putting a brave face in front of friends and families. I don't know whether I can be that strong. Where’s that bravado?

God please help me I don't know what to do. It's unstoppable and can only get worse. Sure I heard that you might be able to cure it, but not everyone can afford the treatment. I have a family to feed; it just doesn't seem fair if they have to suffer too. After all this is because my own doing, I can’t blame no one.

Should I conceal it? You can always do that. But then again, it's still not a cure, merely preserving a little dignity you have left. I don't know whether it's still any use to do that. I couldn't care less. I'd rather die; I don’t want to suffer for long. I'm too weak to bear this burden. Way too weak.

I guess there's only one thing to do. I owe my loved ones an explanation. I am going to tell them openly about my condition. Only then I can continue to live the rest of my life peacefully. It will take all the courage left in me to say those four words in front of them. To tell them the truth about what is happening to me. I have receding hairlines...


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