The Letter | Highly Evolved Human

-One of the hardest things
about being diagnosed with cancer as a young person is just telling your friends
and your peers that you have cancer. It’s literally handing someone
a bad day, and I don’t want to be the cause
of anyone’s bad day. So when I did it,
I tried to do it as quick and painless
as possible. I sent some text messages. I composed a group e-mail.
Why make phone calls, right? Who uses the phone anymore?
I sent a text to my brother, and I remember getting
a text back that just said, “That sucks.” And it did. It sucked. But I wanted something
so much more. And I get it.
I brought it on myself. E-mails and texts are great
for so many things, but maybe not anything
with any emotional depth. The girl that I had a crush
on — Ah. I remember she got upset with me because she was included
in a group e-mail. -What? -She thought we were closer
than that. -I thought we were
closer than that. -And we were. We were closer than that. And if I could do it
all over again, if I could tell that one girl
all over again for the very first time, I would do it the best way
I know possible — with grace and effectiveness. [ Dramatic music plays ] Dearest Elizabeth… I write to you today
with profoundly ill tidings. And, lo, these words
I choose are cruelly apt… for it’s come to light
that I am profoundly ill. [ Music continues ] I’ve just returned home
from the doctors, those icy men with
their sterile, probing tools, secure in the grim knowledge
that I, indeed, have a cancer — a cancer! Can you imagine
a thing less poetic, more inimical to the human soul? Yes, Elizabeth,
’twas that ghastly lump, that malignant pound of flesh
found neath my dewy pit. A pox upon that lump. Now I am a cottage
infested by bedbugs, a church corrupted by heresy,
a duck pond befouled by snakes. I know not what my future holds. I know only
that as I gaze into this prism of my impending mortality, all things profane
in this world drift away, and the one thing that remains,
my love, is you. Eternally yours,
Nicholas Philip Ross. Nicholas Philip Ross. If I would have sent
that letter, I probably would have got
a text message back — “Thx 4 the letter. good luck with KEMO,”
spelled K-E-M-O. But if I would have sent
that letter… …it would have been worth it. Thanks for watching
“Highly Evolved Human.” We have new episodes coming
to SoulPancake every Monday. You can click the video box
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