[ WP ] Physical health is n't determined by age or disease , but by the health of a person 's soul .

I kept my head low as I walked through the school hallway on my way back from lunch. Not that we actually had to eat to survive. I suppose it was to let kids talk to their friends. 
 
 The class was only a few more meters away, and then I'd have more time to read in the back of the room as Mrs. Hansel droned on and on about logarithms. I already knew enough to pass the test on Monday anyways. I always did. 
 
 I grabbed my book as soon as I sat. I was rereading it of course. I did n't have enough money to buy anything new. 
 
 I let out a sigh as I opened *War and Peace* once more. 
 
 I always had an issue with boredom. There was n't much to do in life. I mean, that's a lie. There was plenty. I just did n't really care about any of it. 
 
 Who wants to do *math* for a living? Or anything you really learn in school? I could write, but I do n't have the patience to write boring, but necessary scenes. 
 
 I coughed loudly, causing everyone to look at me. Mumbling something about a tickle in my throat, I looked back down at my book. That was odd. My throat was not `` ticking'' at all. 
 
 - 
 
 **One Year Later** 
 
 - 
 I knew I was dying. They knew I was dying. I was sick. They gave me these looks. Some pity and sorrow but most were of disgust. I smiled back at them. 
 
 From the earliest I remember, we were told that if someone was ill, that they were `` bad people''. After all, that's how most wars end. Somebody eventually gets so corrupt, their soul gets so *dirty*, they fall ill and die. If your relatives were dead, you *never* speak of them, because you're related to somebody who was a monster. *How disgusting. * 
 
 Is n't it odd? I never understood why people cared so much. It's not like that meant you were a monster, right? 
 
 My own family no longer cared about me. They wanted to forget about me. Those looks of pity I got sometimes on the way to class? Those were for them, not me. They felt bad that my family had to deal with me. 
 
 I guess I wanted to forget about me too. 
 
 At first, I thought there was something wrong. I'm not a monster. I have n't done bad things. Maybe my soul was having a bad week and I'd get better soon, or, however, that would work. Now, I know more. I'm not dying because I'm a bad person. I'm dying of boredom. 
 
 I'm dying because I do n't care enough to live. 
 
 I guess I get why people do silly, unnecessary things, like eating and drinking, even when we did n't need to. It was to cure *boredom*. It was to keep people occupied, to keep their souls busy, so they could n't collect dust like mine has. 
 
 I coughed once more, I could almost feel my soul slip even farther away.
