For a while now, I’ve been on this space after Gronk went to sleep.  Is this a dream I’m having?  With no one to answer, I began floating around this white space until I see a scene from afar.

There was a single boy sitting on the bed, with some kind of string attached to his arm, and a cover on his face that’s connected to a machinery.  He looked cheery for a kid in bed, he looked thin, and malnourished from my perspective.

Is this me?  Even though I know it’s a rhetorical question but still that thought popped in my mind.

As the scene continues to play, someone comes in, a person covered in white coat, followed by a pair, a male and a female, they went near to the kid, and soon they conversed to each other.  Not long, I realized these are the parents of said kid.  Though I couldn’t see their faces, I can see sadness mixed with happiness as they conversed with the boy.  Soon after, they all turn to the box and clicked something, and small people are moving inside.

I think this is what they call television, I think. 

The kid was excited, watching the so called television with his parents.  It was his favorite show, it seems.  It looked like a fighting show that portrays prowess in melee battles.  Two men are fighting each other, although it wasn’t a fight to the death, it was still a brawl.  A battle to become the best, the strongest.

Ah, yes.  I think I remember a bit of this.

It was an exciting fight.  The kid was all fired up, yet he’s feeble, and cough from time to time.  This worried the parents every now and then, but they still watched together with him.

After the battle, the winner, made a speech.  Yes, this speech was important to me.

I saw the face of the kid, he was crying, yet his eyes was still glued to the television.  His parents are startled at this fact, and tried to see what’s wrong.  His father jumped out to the room to call for assistance while his mom was caressing the child.

I know this scene.  This was the reason I came this this far in life.  This was the push that I needed to live my life to the fullest.

At some point, I could hear the voice of the man in television, although it was just fragments.   The important parts are still there.

My eyes are now glued to the television too, just like the little kid.  Tears also welled up in my eyes, as I remember the words.  I also spoke the same time as the man, the words that spur me to live stronger.

“-----no matter how great the setback, how severe the failure, you never give up.”

"You never give up, you pick yourself up, you brush yourself off, you get up and move on and over come."

I closed my eyes, as those words penetrated me.

I remembered myself from before.

I was a child born with an incurable disease that drains ones vitality quickly.  I was expected to die at a young age of 10.  My parents still loved me for that.  I smiled for them, in order to ease their worries, but I still can see sadness in their eyes, as they also smiled back to me.  Although the medicines and technology hurt, I still endured for their sake.  At the age of 5, I knew I was already dying.

I had no hope for my future, but I still lived on for my parents, the television was my only sense of entertainment.  Watching different kinds of shows, to see how life was in the world outside this room.  Yes, I was bedridden since the day I was born.  My body was already weak since the time I was born, it’s even a miracle that was delivered safely, or even managed to survive the delivery.

Anyways, there was this one favorite show that I always watch.  It’s a show about fighting, and I loved every second of it.  A battle of strength, to become the best.  This riled up my already tired spirit, and somehow it made me cheer up whenever I feel down by my predicament.

Of course it doesn’t mean I’m not cheered up with my parents.  I’m also being taken care by the nurses here, but still, being unable to do anything due to your sickness, is disheartening.  So, the show has truly helped me cheer up whenever I’m by myself at night.

I was at the age of 7, my expected time of death nearing, I felt despair and helplessness more, but I try to be cheery, because I don’t want anyone to be sad.  I want to show them that I am not bothered that I lived short.  Yet still, I want to live longer.  I want to live the way I want to be, but how?

I’ve been thinking, and thinking, but my young mind couldn’t find any possibilities.  Until that day, that is.  It was just your normal day, a normal visit by your parents.  We watched the television as usual after our talk about how our days went.  After the fight, my favorite fighter gave a speech.  This speech shook me from the inside.

“Never give up.”

These three words, gave me encouragement.  To pursue any means necessary to achieve my goal.

You can laugh all you want if you think that this encouragement was cheap.

I don’t care.  People always cling to hope, no matter how small.  These small things called hope could change one’s view, be it good or worse.  And this was mine.

After that, I talked to my parents, with a resolute face.

I want to surpass my weakness.

I want to overcome this sickness

They tried to persuade me that it’s useless and it would do me more harm than it could help me.

But medicines didn’t work, or even the technology that our world could have.

So, my solution was this.  I will train my body, learn martial arts, and overcome this weakness through tempering my body.  I pleaded my parents, convinced them.

“It’s better to do it and die trying than to wait for my death in this room.”  These were the words I told them.

They were shocked by what I said, I know they are being overprotective to me, that’s why they won’t let me out, of this hospital.  They didn’t want me to die earlier than expected, their beloved son.  I know it sounds presumptuous of me to say as if I know.  Well, yes, I did know, but at that time I didn’t.

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They final accepted my plea.

And that very day, I was sent to my parent’s home.  You couldn’t really call it a home, it’s more like a skyscraper.  I just realized how rich my parents are.  It’s funny, because the hospital was just next door.   Anyways, they hired a couple of the nurses that took care of me, the veterans that were nursing me since I was a baby and were still nursing me in the hospital up to today.

I’m a bit shocked at how fast things were progressing.  As soon as I reached to the room that they gave me, it was filled with books that was freshly bought, and equipment for training, up to a ring for matches.  Oh, and the “room” I told you about, it’s one whole floor of the building.  It was divided into three areas.  The bedroom, the training room, and the reading lounge, though the reading lounge looks more like a mini-library.  Truly doting parents, I love them so much.

For the first time, I ate together with my parents, of course, I was spoon fed by the nurse.  But still they were not bothered by it, and we continued our conversation with smiles plastered on our faces.

 The next day, I read books on how to train, martials arts, breathing methods, and meditation.  My first few days were hard.  First, I am training to stand up properly.  The exhaustion was great, I even collapsed a couple of times from overexerting my really weak body.  My parents would rush to me and carry me to the doctor and get myself checked up right away.  But I stopped them, I took a rest a little bit, and continued my practice, raising my wobbly feet again.  Their faces were filled with worries and at some point my mother ran out of the room, father watching me intently with a tear on his right eye.

Really, they love me too much.

I keep repeating the training, day in day out.  I collapsed, vomit, and crawl to the ground, but I still will try to stand up.  Until I could finally do it, they praised me, and had a feast when I finally could walk, and for the first time, I was really happy.  I don’t know if this would increase my already small life span, but I have no regrets.

“Never give up.”  These three words.  I keep chanting them every day, convincing myself, to the point of exhaustion, that one day, I would surpass my limits, and become stronger.

Weeks later, my parents have hired an expert to teach me.  At first I thought it would be better not to, but as soon as the expert told me some mistakes I made, I realized how it is important to have someone with more knowledge to teach you properly, being self-taught is hard.

Thus started the training.  Weeks turned to months, months turned years.  I honed my body, trained them, nurture them.  My body grew sturdier, my vitality is still weak due to the corrosion of my health, yet I still persevere, my appetite also persevere, in order to supply the nutrients to my body, the needed strength and such.

My parents also sent a couple more experts a couple of times, teaching me.  As soon as I learned enough, they would switch another expert, giving me more knowledge on how to build my body stronger.  Of course I met the fighter I idolized at one point, it was on my 9th birthday, I was really surprised, I tip my hat to my parents.  It seemed that he already knew about my disease since my parents had actually talked to him to visit me, since I was one of his fans.  We ate together, conversed about his previous matches, and laughed at some of the funny parts of it too.  He even taught me some of his moves, and such and it was really fulfilling.

The day ended, and he had to leave, it was sad, but I know, maybe someday, we’d meet again.  I promised to go to one of his matches when I could finally be strong enough to go great distances.

He raised his hand to me, I thought he was gonna pat my head, but it stopped midway and he spread out his hand.

A hand shake, he looked at me in the eyes.  And said.

“It’s a promise then.”

He saw me as a man, I was acknowledged by my idol.  Happiness was spreading through me, I almost broke down into tears.  I controlled my surging emotions, held my head high.  With a smile, and eyes cloudy, almost on the verge of tears. I also raised my hand clenching his receiving hand.

“Yes, a promise.”  It was hard to speak those words as I was really on the verge of crying.  But I still was able to express my feelings.

After that he left.  With renewed vigor, I went back to my room and trained diligently.  I trained, surpassed my limits, I even learned Ki, after learning from one of my teachers.  These training was done in a private land that my parents had bought, it turned into a wild life sanctuary, and was kept off from society.  There I honed my body, traveling the forest, meditating in the waterfalls, and eating from vegetation.  The teachers has taught me all about survival in these woods, and after achieving all that they could teach me.  Having learned from these teachers, I feel nothing but great respect from them, and also great love from my loving parents. 

I went back to self-training, living in the woods, honing my body once more.  I’ve become independent already at the age of 9.  Days go by, and my 10th year arrives.

----Real Talk------

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