Let it Die

There was an infection. It started with a simple wound, which spread like wildfire and started cultivating a dangerous kind of fear. It then began eating the flesh and dug deeper into the muscles and bones. They tried to freeze the arm for a while hoping it would stop the spread, that freezing will make the bacteria cold and let itself die. But the thing with freezing... is that it just slows, if not stop, the infection. It doesn't kill them. It's just there, lingering. Waiting for further insult that will exponentiate their spread.

And there was another spread. And another. Until the body cannot war with it anymore. They tried antibiotics with the widest coverage to catch up with the spread, realizing they cannot catch up to the overwhelming infection and the fear it made. The body panicked, and trembled. The heart raced, the lungs hazed, the blood was leaking everywhere.

And then they had to cut the limb. The limb that was desperately holding on for blood supply yet ended up poisoning the whole body. The limb that was once hopeful and capable of anything it could ever imagine doing. No matter how desperate they tried to fix it, it just added further damage, depleting the stocks of hope until it was left desperate and empty. They were left with no choice. They had to cut the limb.

Now the limb is gone.

The mind thinks it's still there and kept on sending synapses, waiting for a response. It kept on going with his life, thinking it's still there. Thinking it will be there. The Phantom Limb that used to wave a second wind. The limb that used to hold hands, the limb that used to hold her. The limb who went to different avenues of her that only a few had explored.

But one day he has to Let the limb Die. Or else the Whole will suffer because it will put the heart into a shock that will not be saved even by the most potent vasoconstrictor or the most aggressive fluid resuscitation.

For now, let it think that it's just there where it used to be. Let it be stubborn enough to realize it all by himself, he won't listen to others anyway. Let it think that it's still there. Until one day it will realize that that limb really has to die. That it's gone.

Let it die. The plans and the hopes and what ifs and would be's. The might have beens and could have beens. The what should have been, and to the infinitude of what that limb could do. To the promises sworn by that hand, and warmth it has given. Let it die.

Let it die. To the widespread invasion of the infection, for the prevention of a grander scale invasion. To all the attempts to save the limb yet it was the saving that made it worse. Let it die.

Let it die. To give way to the growth a new one. A better one. Wherein it knows more where to go and not to go. One that knows when to push and when to pull. The one who will be controlled by the same brain whose learned the hard way. That brain who had undergone painful conditioning, which at this time, must know when to hold on and when to let go. With respect to what is yet to come.

To the better story it will tell.
The that one story they will one day tell.
Give way.
Let it Die.