Teddy Bear Trials

Chapter 3

"4 Months. That's all I have left? Time flys when your dying doesn't it. This is all I have left and I haven't made my mark, done something stupid or brave or dangerous? So I'm going to die without living. Ironic isn't it?" The thoughts raced through my head like seen racers driving like there's no tomorrow, and for me, one day, there will be no tomorrow. I haven't done what I want to do yet. Yes I'm only 14 but that doesn't mean that I can't live before I kick the bucket full of my hopes and dreams.

I wrote down a list of everything I wanted to do before I died. In speaking terms it would have been for throughout my life. I wanted to grow old with sombody I loved. And die with them. My list wasn't long but it meant something to me:

*My first Kiss
*Best 16th birthday EVER!
*Marry the love of my life
*Have kids
*Go skydiving with squad
*Go to Cali and N.Y with Fam ♡
*Grow old with someone
*Get my 2nd piercing in my ear
*dye my hair neon blue for the summer

It may not be much to some people, but this, this list, meant the world to me. I'll never have my first kiss. I'll never get married, or have kids, or even have my 16th birthday.

Tears dotted my blue irisis and sprinted down my pale flesh. I'll never get to be with him. Never. Never. The word tattooed in my mind. All the nevers added up to everything. Never, nothing. I won't get to go to prom. not even Freshman prom!!

I let myself fall back into the gemtle arms of defeat, and my feather pillow, and let the salty warm drops imprint my pupils.

Time ticked down. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Like a bomb about to go of. a bomb that WILL go of. In 4 months, that bomb will ruin my life. And everyone in it. It's a ticking time bomb. A time bomb that in four, short, agonizing months, would eliminate it's victim. If you've ever been in a war, a battle, something that pained you so much you couldn't bear it, yeah then you know how I feel.

I'm meeting him on Friday after school. Him. You know? Him? Of corse you don't know him. Well let me inform you about this, Him.

He's tall. Very tall. His crystal blue pupils could melt Texas. His smile is always warm and playful, but sometimes mischievous, never strained though. He doesn't talk about his feelings much. But when he does, it's a poem just waiting to be published. His hair reminds me of a sweet favorite. Carmel. Well, sort of. It's more Carmel with blond frost brushing over it. Light and airy. His broad shoulders are strong enough to lean on, but if you put to much pressure, they crumble like a soft gooey cookie. And that line from a song, Sun kissed skin so hot, he'll melt your popcicle? Yeah, his tan skin will melt more than a sticky popcicle in a fat kids hand.

It pains me more that I won't get to be with him. Ever. I won't share my first kiss with him. (His lips are as virgin as Mary.) I won't get to have his arms embrace me, or his touch compel me to love him even more. And, I won't ever get to be around that personality that makes everyone around him freeze. Yeah, that's Him.

I finally manage to pry my lids open and get ready for school. Mondays. They always suck. It's basically Tuesdays ugly stepsister. You know I never thought about it, but Monday must feel like cancer. Hated, unloved and just plain nasty. No cure for the Mondays, no cure for cancer. No freaking cure for those hells. You may think that if you survive Monday without passing out or colapsing, obviously you don't know what it's like to be cursed with an incurable death wish. Take Monday and multiply it by 100 million. That's how we feel everyday. And by we, I mean all the people that are suffering right now. We wake up knowing we're going to die, and we go to sleep knowing we're going to die.