Lullaby Dream's |En|

Blood Gum

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If I say the word "life" to you, the word that goes with it is death.
These two contradictory words are often associated even though there's nothing healthy about them.
Life: we see it as a relentless pursuit from childhood, leading us to a certain autonomy often demanded by family ties.
Personally, finding a quality in life is limited (...) living unforgettable moments? Of course not, if we forget them, either through mental illness or simply through death.
Once our grave is dug our body is nothing but a corpse, empty and without consciousness.
How can you remember anything?

Of course, God will then take our consciousness to a better world to protect us until the end.

But for me, this end appears as soon as the trauma haunts a life.

I already consider myself dead, my body just obeying what little adrenalin I have left.
Meg, as they like to call me so often, refers to
Megara: a Greek goddess with a demigod for a husband.
You'd think I'd be satisfied with half of everything, when I could have so much more.

I saw death, it knocked on my door that day.
Cancer, such a common, horrible disease.
They talk about it like an STI to scare teenagers, if only everyone could get the disease.
To realise that it's not enough to cry beside a hospital bed for everything to go back to the way it was before.

My mother thought I was dead, she was so sure I was going to rot in that bed, so she left. Said she didn't want to see her child die in front of her eyes, my arse.
She just ran off with who knows who and never came back.

When I was 12, Megan Pearson survived cancer after 7 months in a hospital bed smelling of 90% medical alcohol.

No, don't try to imagine me, you're way off the mark.
I'm not that girl dragging her feet, wearing a hood over her greasy, rough-tipped hair.
I'm not this character who doesn't talk to anyone and whose only goal is to die.

I've managed to survive and I'm grateful for that.
If I live, it must be for something, or for someone?

I'm so scared of death, when I think of that feeling of nothingness... I feel my chest tightening and my head creating a black hole where my mouth says only one thing, over and over again: "I don't want to".

"So you like it ? '' said Hayden, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Um, yeah, I like it".

"I never thought you liked rock, she giggled and turned on the radio"

"A Long Time ago (...)" I say, sinking back into my seat and gripping the steering wheel firmly in my hands.

Hayden's masculinity was his charm.
His auburn hair was often tied back with a carnelian clip, and his transparent grey eyes comforted me when something was wrong. 

"I like your new colour, you look younger" says Hayden, taunting me from close up.

"Shut up and concentrate on the instructions you have to give me" I said, laughing and nudging him.

"Yes, yes, I got it, boss".

She was much taller than me in height, but younger than me in age, by only a year.