Dear World, I'm Fine

I decided I would and definitely not take anyone's answers to cover mine. From this day on to the remaining extent of my curvy life. Like hell no! Not anymore. An American cancerous girl needs to live a little. And to remind myself that I only have a few months to live makes this tangled messy stubborn mind to reach out to its inner rebellious self. A few days ago I was thinking of entangling from disappointments, to stop thinking of death as long as I could but no. I'm always thinking about it everyday. Like how a stray dog remembered food. What it's like to lay down on my own coffin, what would it felt like to attend my own funeral, or to stare far too long on a hot guy in mourning clothes with me invincible. Because there's no reason for me to resist any thoughts about it anyway. So why didn't I try to step my mind out of it? Good Question. The truth is this world is a shitty reality- a shitty place where rainbows are made with scientific facts. No tales behind, no colorful story to tell after. Just a dull fact. Now I'm back, just like yesterday- taking meds with series of questions concerning my pitiful health. I frankly never understood the routine, deftly in a perverse kind of manner. Maybe because humans are beautiful creatures and they dedicate life to hope. Which I practically have less. But FYI, thinking about death doesn't make me depressed or phobic or all those bloody neurological psychological conclusions. I'm just being practical. My mom made back and forth little comments about it each time. My not being stable mental and emotional behavior. It made her convince herself to put me in check for 'mind damaged' twice in a week. It includes nurse visits every night which I actually hate. That's why I have two of the candidates give up on me this week for being 'too much', driving everyone crazy. And that's why I'm here. To meet another candidate to check me up for the next regular days. And like what I just said: This time, I'm not gonna let them talk in my behalf. Not again. With the afternoon light peeking between the draped curtains in Mr. Baldwin's asylum gives me the right amount of light to stare at Cecilia with a mixture of resentment. Poor woman, fresh out of college only to deal with a mishandled teenager close to the brink of death. It wasn't her fault to end up with me. It was Mr. Bald's. You might be wondering why it's Mr. Bald? And no it's not the case about his hair. In fact it was the irony of it. A beefy middle-aged living doctor with healthy hair conditions dedicated on being un-bald. Or so I've heard. I'll never know why his parents gave him the kind of name that would probably haunt him forever. "Okay, since you finally know each other, I want to tell you how happy I am to make this brief announcement." I can feel the faint tug of urgency to roll my eyes prominently spilling through the ends of my eyeballs. As If I didn't already know that. "Yeah, so Carly she will be your temporary nurse for a couple of weeks..." For a couple of weeks? Are they trying to send me to hell too early already? What the heck? Usually nurses are only permitted to visit their patients for a span of 2 to 3 days. I didn't know it would be this long in my case. It wasn't like I'm throwing maddening fits recently that might deem me mad. I never in my life even whine like some bratty menopausal school girl. Hell, I'm not even depressed! Heat were clouding on my girly mustache, proving that I'm already fuming through hot irritation. It's like having my period too early. "And we expect you to be responsive, so can you do that?" I caught Cecilia smiling to me, trying to make a good impression. Oh yeah? My mean mind whispered silently. You want responsive? I'll give you responsive! I smiled back sarcastically as my mouth spoke. Letting my inner voice fire like grenade, "I don't know where to start or where to set my messed up verbal and highly emotional lifestyle to but I'm Carly. And hey! You need not to worry too much because I'm absolutely aware that we won't be best friends too far. Reason? Yeah you know, I'm depressed and I'm gonna die soon but before that maybe I would probably become insane like what all these people had envisioned." I held my hand out for a handshake, becoming too aware that Mr Bald was already blabbing nonsense to ease the atmosphere "So yeah, nice to meet you." Cecilia turns into a tomato, probably deciding against taking my hand for her own expense. I don't blame her tho, I'd be anxious to its very thought if I were her. "Enough!" My mother fumed, her mouth forming an 'o' which I'm blatantly aware was caused by my unexplained burst of mouthful harshness. And I'm right. I'm always right. But I wasn't aware that Mr Bald has his words on me when he finally called my full name with a hiss. "Carly Heaven Sanders!" His voice suddenly audibly sends echoes to his very white abode making my pinky finger to jump in surprise. My head turned sideways, my gaze now fixed on the grayness of the city outside. To much acid to breathe in, too much poison to call it safe, too much crowd to think about. TOO MUCH! And not to mention the aforementioned fact about losing time too fast and too much in every second. Then it hits me. Time. Ah! I've already wasted too much of it. But still I can feel Mr. Bald's eyeballs burning on me. "Is it too much? To call all this 'help' for you, I mean." He looked at me with a moment of concern like every doctors must be to their patients. Yes, 'too much' my favorite phrase. Silence took place. I don't know why, but I don't want to share them my personal answers. It's already too much to spell cancer every day, too much to even talk about it in front of my mom and dad. I figured to at least shut my mouth if I could. Still, it doesn't excuse my rude attempt to inevitably blab of dying facts. So I stayed not talking. A new peaceful verb, 'Not'. "I understand why you're doing this Carly. I know you. You see things negatively which is unhealthy for you. Both mentally, emotionally. Believe me, it gets a little tiring for us sometimes. Your mother and your dad. To see you not understanding the processes and staying below our efforts every day." He sigh a low sigh causing me to turn back to him, "But please, let me help you. Let us help you. Maybe it is a little too much for you to call this 'help'. But please understand that your peers were holding on for you. Can you promise me to at least try to cooperate?" Now he's looking at me expectantly. I caught sight of my mother doing the same. What the hell? Just then I wanna draw away from my protective bubble and to just shout everything I'm heavily carrying inside. I didn't know what to do or where to start, so I thought about notoriously igniting. What it felt like to let myself be pissed off. "You're right, I see things negatively. That I'm a damn pessimist." My fictional self breathed in and out, betting my own lungs to stay healthy "But I'm not insane and hell I'm not even depressed." I can see my fictional mom shell-shocked, tears brimming her face. The back of my fictional mind was telling me to stop. I could've just held myself. But I didn't. I didn't want to stop. Fictionally speaking. "I'm dying and I'm bloody trying to f*****g work my life out in my own way without stupid nurses interfering everyday!" I can feel my fictional self- breaking tremendously on the spot. Truth is painful, even without a probable explanation. "I'm gonna die. I don't want to spend my last weeks with these bastards, not anymore." Then silence. I don't know how, but I knew I have made my ending. I've finally made my epic fictional decision. I wish I had or have. But I didn't. No bomb on-the-spot-scenario happened. I stayed silent, staring guiltily at my mom whose waiting for me to say something. Technically to spill out my agreement even with me against it. Just this once I wanted to stray and actually be against it. But then I still decided to refrain from repelling from it. So I just gave my nod to Mr. Bald. I can even see the corners of his mouth lifting upwards. That made an impact to my throaty reformation of thick and disgusting urge to vomit, knowing the decision wasn't mine to take liking on their sudden show of satisfaction. For my mom and dad. I reminded myself. Damn it! I'm not taking my own answers after all. "Ok. Yeah, I should probably do that." I cleared my throat sensing my mom's sudden change of expression, beaming to me like I just granted her magic. I smiled at her way, this time- geniune. A proverbial word of honesty. A bunny from a magician's hat. This what's keeps me going. All their constant efforts, their prayers, their ability to not burn to ashes. Being not the most healthy and cancer-free child they only have. If I'm not able to give them graduation caps or stolen flags from Mars, or a replica from New York's liberty statue, being alive is all I can offer. Even though it wont be infinitely present. A flower from an endless growth of grasses. I don't know what is it exactly that kept me alive this far. I still remember the day when they all thought they will finally going to lose me, like a flick from a candle flame. But it doesn't work that way. I was a really hard-ass flame, that's what my mother told me. And I once thought: Damn right I am. I was a legit flame in a weak wax of candle. I was pretty tough, kinda like stubborn inactive non-exploding grenade. But they were wrong. I wasn't. I was a dumb kid. A dumb kid doesn't know candles would melt. Hell, even grenades has its limits. Though I tried to see heaven between hell, it doesn't excuse the pain. That is when I began to actually grow up. I realize I'm not exactly that dumb anymore. It was from 7 years ago and now I'm 16. I know better. Nothing could ever prepare me for facing my 'the most fated day'. Last December, after listening to the doctor confirming my upcoming death, I look at my parents' wet faces, thinking: I'm sorry guys, I tried. And that's it, I didn't shatter, didn't dissolve even a bit. But I remembered not listening anymore afterwards, covering my ears with muffled voices that I could only hear. I couldn't feel anything. Except literally for a couple of lung pains. At least it wasn't anything serious. And it stayed that way.