COPE - Award-Winning Short Film

I've only got six weeks to live. I haven't told my friends. Not my colleagues. I haven't even told my wife. But there it is. March 22nd. Six weeks from now. I'm not complaining. I've never been one for it. I've had a pretty standard life. Nothing too awful. Nothing to write home about. Funny to think that it'll all be over soon. I actually find it brings me a kind of peace. This isn't just another sodding walk back from the shops. In the sodding rain. It's probably my last. So look at it. Take it in. Really taste it. I continue to play the roles as if nothing's wrong. Just a normal husband. Friend. Brother. Dad. No one suspects. Still it's there. Just over three weeks to go now. March 22nd. The date I take my own life. No matter how bad things are, the date is set. Mustn't do anything before then. You see, my life is okay. It's fine. But it's only fine because I know I'll be dead in three weeks. Knowing this gets me through. Through the boredom. The anger. The frustration. Maybe. Just maybe I'll miss this. Yes. Even this. It's how I find my inner peace. As the indignities that make up a life mount up. I just count the days down. Two weeks and six days. Two weeks and five days. Two weeks and four days. Then sometimes, so far every time, something happens. It might be something wondrous. Something beautiful. Something silly. But something that makes me think. And it makes me think I don't want to be dead in two weeks. And when that happens, I start again. Six weeks to live.