ManyWriters

On my birthday of 49, my brain tumor had another attack.
My vision has become blurry, and my brain can no longer think clearly.
I knew that I may not have many days left to live.
The medical staff worked hard to keep me stable, and they picked up my phone to contact my families.
When the nurse dialed the 10th call, I finally heard my wife's voice, which was full of anger: "Why are you so annoying? Why do you keep calling me? I'm going to fly to Florence with Tim - don't contact me unless there's an emergency."
Then my daughter's voice came over, sounding very cold: "Mom, if this man passes away, that would be great. The insurance money can be directly transferred to my account. I have always wanted a new motorcycle."
After hearing this, I have no resentment.
Strangely, I actually feel like the burden on me is disappearing.
Perhaps it's finally time to bid farewell to this unfortunate life.

A Wake-Up Call to Let Me Escape From the Garbage

As a young child, Julia struggled to grasp the intricacies of grown-up relationships. She constantly walked on eggshells around Monica, desperately seeking her approval.


Monica, however, was harsh, exacting, and never satisfied.


It pained me to witness Julia's futile efforts, only to be met with indifference.


Perhaps that's why, in her later years, a rebellious punk with bleached hair could win her over so easily—she had never experienced the warmth of maternal affection.


Monica's mouth quivered as recollections flooded her mind. For once, she appeared to genuinely contemplate the past. She muttered, almost inaudibly: "You're so much like your father. Always so grave. Never one for kind words, always brutally honest..."


Julia remained silent, lowering her eyes and saying softly, "Mom, you haven't eaten anything today. I brought some food for you. Please try to eat a bit, alright?"


Monica followed Julia to the dining area and sat down, gazing at the takeout boxes before her.


Chapter 10