I'm at a point where
Life doesn't inspire
As much as your absence does.
Rachel:
I have a little secret. Well, a very innocent secret, honestly, it actually has nothing to do with any of my nasty actions. It's just, you know, I have a fatal illness. For the majority of the time, I keep this as a secret whenever I meet someone which is a better thing to go with. Because I don't think anyone would care anyway.
I found out about my little secret last month. The day after my birthday, to be exact.
I turned 20 and I'm already about to pass away. I honestly don't know how to feel about it. I wish I could have some time at peace after my mother's funeral. She died on my birthday and I found out about it after I saw her lying on the concrete floor with some liquid all over her mouth. I was speechless and so was she. I wish that I could say goodbye. I remember the way my legs shook and then I fell down.
Like always.
I sometimes think to myself about my mother's little secrets. Her secret is nastier than me. Because she did drugs. She poisoned herself. Almost on purpose. But I miss her anyway. Because she was my mom and I was her ungrateful daughter.
.................
When I make it to the hospital, a few differences catch my eye since I'm used to the texture of this building thanks to my mother's incidents.
There are way more people than usual. For unknown sort of reasons.
And just for the record, an exceptionally handsome guy.
'I'm so...sorry.'
When I bump into someone, my usual reaction is to walk away as fast as I can. I mean not that this is a part of my daily routine but I just wanted to mention it. And, again, for some unknown sort of reason, I can't. I'm just staring at this gorgeous guy with my eyes wide open when he utters the most basic words most impressively. Or I just simply wish so.
'Are you okay?'
When I get out of my trance, I quickly reply:
'I mean, yeah...yes, I'm totally fine. I'm sorry, I just had a rough day.'
Why am I even talking about my day?
In exchange for my response, he simply smiles and heads toward the registration table all while my already fucked up kind of lungs betrays me once again.
I guess it's harder to fall in love when you have a pair of broken lungs because I can't even get excited. Or I just die.
...............
When I throw myself out of the hospital, I take the air in and can't get it out. I don't know why but since I found out about my illness I just can't or to be exact don't want to exhale.
Because these stupid lungs won't be able to manage to take them in for me anymore. As my urge to become my lungs increases, a glimpse of the boy I bumped into a few long minutes ago gets me distracted.
And the fact that he is walking toward me right now could also be the reason for distraction.
'Hey, is it okay if I take a seat?'
Usually, when I sit on a bench with my head resting on my knees and my legs are folded, I feel the need to straighten them out also I usually don't cry when somebody introduces themselves but today I do everything I usually don't. Because why not? I'm throwing in the towel.
' Yeah, sure. How did things go? Are you sick?
'Oh, it's not me. My friend, had a car accident earlier today. He is doing pretty good though. Only got a few cuts and bruises. What about you, what's your story?
I don't know if I should be honest and shatter my rule.
To Be Continued..
