Am here because someone I’ve never met pushed a button. He or she pushed a button and felt really good about his or her accomplishment. He or she swelled with pride over so much bravery and dedication. I have asked for a picture of my legs. The nurse told me it was a bad idea. I can’t move much, I can’t lift myself up, only my head a little bit, so I can’t sneak a peak at what is left of my ‘transport division’. I have asked several times if my genitals are intact. They say they are, but I suspect they are lying to me. I see my urine being syphoned off through a tube into a bag that hangs by the side of the bed. That I can see.
Pain? The lower half of my body is now a pain region. It’s very constant and numbing. I would say it covers about two square metres right now. Two square metres of agony. It’s not the worst part though. The worst part is imagining what it looks like. How much is gone. Not that it matters much. I’ve been told am not going to make it.
There is a sponge, yes, really, a sponge, in a hole in my lower abdomen. They want to keep me open. The idea was to clean out the shit swirling around in my body in parts where no shit should ever go. The damage is too big though. They have burned my ass shut. My shit is supposed to go into a little bag. I think they call it a stoma.
I’ve been given a few days to contemplate my life. Am a very prude guy, I must say. I could never even imagine going to a hamam. I’ve done some weird acrobatics to get into my swimming clothes on the beach. The only people who’ve ever seen me naked are my mum and two girlfriends. It’s probably something that runs in the family. Even as I lie here dying I am mortified the nurses can see me in my current state.
My friends who play a lot of soccer were always very comfortable being naked. Very strange. I have always envied people who could be relaxed in any setting. Am always very tense.
I think this is not where my thoughts should be flowing right now. I should be getting to a deep understanding of human existence in my last moments, but nothing much comes up.
I think about how my father used to like tuna with very generous servings of olive oil. I think of how my mum would always put rice on my plate first and how I would glow inside. I think of how as I got older I made a point of putting rice on my sister’s plate first.
I feel very simple right now. I wanted a house of my own. I wanted to travel a bit. See Rome perhaps. Maybe Paris. Maybe London. Yellowstone national park in the US. In Montana? Or was it Colorado? Can’t remember now.
I would have liked to own a German car. Doesn’t really matter which brand. ‘Wir leben Autos’. I like the sound of that. Sounds like trustworthines, durability and reliability. A car like the person I wanted to be. Oh well, am going to die without even getting my driver’s license. Even if I survived there would be no driving for me now.
I could turn to religion, but I have never been deep into that. I suppose I could get behind the idea of there being a heaven right now. I think I’d like that. But I would hate to observe my parents from up there and watch them mourn me. That’s enough to make heaven hell for me.
I was hoping to have a lot more sex in my life, if I can be totally honest with you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Nothing too kinky. Mostly vanilla stuff.
I won’t have to think about a career now any more. I never knew what I wanted to be. Huge source of stress. Something I would be passionate about. The problem is that nothing I am passionate about leads to money. Is there a Japanese anime test audience job? I love anime. Yes, anime. What? You think Palestinians only like Palestinian stuff? We’re as connected to the wider world as you are. Ok, we can’t travel, but any hobby you can think of exists here too. For me it’s anime. To be paid to watch and review anime. Maybe I could have launched a podcast about anime, but there are already too many podcasts in this world and am very shy. I wish I wasn’t, but I am. Right now am not sure what there was to be so shy about. I love anime. So what? What’s the worst that could happen if I talked about my favorite movies in front of a camera?
Nobody would drop a bomb on my ass for that.
I wonder if any American celebrity signed their name on the bomb that hit me. Maybe added a cute message. ‘A bomb up your ass, Khamas.’ Yeah, am not in Khamas in case you were wondering. And yes, you guessed it, I was watching anime on October 7th. No dancing, no handing out sweets in the street. There’s two million of us. The idea that we were all partying is statistically non-sensical. But nevermind that. It was never about understanding what was going on here, it was always about secretly enjoying our deaths. Deep down. Come on, I can take it, you can admit it now. I never did you any wrong and you don’t have to be ashamed about it, you’re not going to mourn me. And you get a bit of an adrenaline rush when one of your politicians says: ‘finish them!’. Like it’s a game of Mortal Kombat on your Playstation. No? You don’t? Ok, maybe you’re one of the good guys or girls then. That bomb still hit me though.
There should be some angel coming down to whisper the meaning of life into my ear, but no.
I’d like a hug.
I’d like a walk on the beach.
Hold hands with a cute girl who looks at me like am the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
Something between me and the physical world is breaking now.
Hey, look, my mother’s face. She says am looking better. The fever has passed. I can go to school tomorrow.
My father’s voice complimenting me on solving a math equation when I was 12. Ha, I forgot how good that felt.
I bid you an affectione farewell now.
I would have loved to meet you in different circumstances.
Maybe I could have infected you with a love of anime and you could have passed on one of your passions to me.
Can I have a small request?
I don’t know anything about your life, I don’t know how many resources you have or how much time or how many responsibilities or how much stress, but could you do something to prevent more people like me being killed?
It doesn’t have to be much. I don’t know, something.
Just say you disagree with my death. That my death went against your wishes.
Am fighting the urge to lift myself up and look at the lower part of my body. At the debris there. I have to focus on something else.
I’ll focus on my first kiss.
Her lips the color of ripe cherries.
Ah, the taste of her.
If that’s what heaven is like I can’t wait to be there.
Am sorry, mum.
Am sorry, dad.
I only went to the market to get bread for you.
Am sorry we didn’t get to say goodbye.
Don’t make my stay in heaven hell for the next 30 or so years.
Don’t mourn me.
Be glad am no longer in pain.
Help me publish a book
€2.00
The Confessor 