At 26 years old, Charleston, SC native Raymond Johnson was diagnosed with cancer. He’s working, but he has no insurance. So he and his doctor applied for Medicaid to cover the costs of his treatment, but he was denied. Denied because he has breast cancer and Medicaid only covers breast cancer treatment for women.
(via tonythunder)
The darkness of Sweet Oblivion reaches her black inky tendrils out to me, calling to me, tempting me…
Come to me, she whispers softly.
I’ll make it all go away.
She caresses my neck, black inky feelers colder than ice freeze my skin, burning her into my flesh, creating a memory it will never forget.
Come with me, she breathes in my ear.
I’ll make you numb.
She wraps her black inky tendrils around me, sinking them into my chest, probing my heart.
She takes it in her fluid grasp and squeezes.
Come to me, her voice is in my head.
Give me your life, she says.
I’ll fix your problems, she whispers.
I’ll make you Dead.
She takes one black finger of darkness and hovers above my heart.
Make your choice, she breathes.
Just one swift movement and it’ll all be over.
I breathe deep, my heart beats in her grasp. She hisses, feral, ruthless, brute blackness seeps from her essence, engulfing me.
I breathe again, my heart hurts.
Make the pain stop, my voice is barely audible.
You cannot go back on your decision, her cool ice voice has a hint of excitement.
Take me in your arms, and caress me into Sweet Oblivion, I say, leaning into her icy blankness.
Yesss, she breathes.
Her voice drips with excitement. She sucks me into her darkness, ice flows through my veins. She is a parasite, gripping my insides, taking control of me.
And just before her black inky feelers close over my eyes and shut out the light forever, I see my last glimpse of life.
She takes it from me, so slowly I can’t even feel it.
Yes, she whispers. Her voice reverberates through my entire body.
You’re just one more soul, her voice is cruel, it cuts me open.
Blood flows from my wounds, turning to black ice and disappearing into her, making her bigger, stronger.
She ends the pain quickly, and I feel my essence departing this flesh prison. It manifests itself in front of my eyes.
Wrong choice, it whispers. My essence runs her warm fingers over my blue cheek and disappears.
I’m sinking into the darkness of Sweet Oblivion, where the pain won’t hurt anymore, and the world doesn’t turn anymore. And yet my essence’s words are running through my head.
Wrong Choice, it says.
Wrong Choice, it repeats, a little lower.
The echo kills me more than Sweet Oblivion did.
I know I made the wrong choice.
Wrong Choice….
I twill haunt me for the rest of my numb existence.
