Joy Cancer

Joy Cancer has a weird name, a hatred for clocks, and a bag of helium over her head—and one of those things she has by choice. Yes, she chose to go to a small island in the Indian Ocean, find a beautiful beach, and pull a bag full of gas over her head. After a minute, she’ll black out. In five minutes, her exhausting brain will be starved of oxygen and irrevocably damaged. Ten minutes, and she’s gone. “K, bye.” No pain, and no flaw in her thorough plan. Except. . .it would be awkward if some brazen-faced stranger ripped the bag when the stopwatch showed eight minutes.

But the bucket list Joy never had says there are still parties to be gatecrashed, soulmates to be chased, scenes from Titanic to be acted out, fish to be saved, hearts to be broken and mended, fistfights to be taken part in, lies to be believed and truths to be forgotten, wetsuits to be worn to your ex-boss’s office, subway cars to be danced on, police stations to be escaped from, laughter epidemics to be set in motion, and even riots to be started. The helium tank is patient; it can wait.

This is a carefree story about depression, and a wistful story about the love of life.