Remember me

I knew he was sick, but didn’t know he was that sick.
Then, the email came out.
He was sicker than that.
“Don’t be so negative,” people told me. “It’s not as if it’s terminal.”
Then another email comes out, to answer the people wanting to visit.
And it said no visitors, he’s in a lot of pain, and that it would be best to remember him as he was, than how he is now.
Me, I’d rather people remember me as a weak, passive lump in bed, knocked out by morphine.
Than the selfish, rambling asshole I usually was.

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