life from a jar •

zero

The doctors' office wasn't an unusual place for me. To being conceived there and carried in and out of the off-white double doors to my chunky toddler legs climbing onto the reception room chairs all by myself.

When I entered my pre-teens I made my way in exploring the long hallways filled entirely of iv's and computers. The overall most enticing obstacle with travelling through the large building were the hand-sanitizing dispensers. I made sure to fight off any form of bacteria I would have accumulated by stopping at every one of them and pressing the clear substance on my hands, rubbing them together before I could spot another.

It was a game. My very own top secret mission; to walk further down the corridors every day I could.

On my twelfth birthday I remember finally passing that one flickering light I'd always noticed from the farthest end of the hall, the one right above the ladies' restroom sign. It always seemed so far away, and beyond my wildest dreams did I ever think I'd make it there. I remember it clearly yet it seems like it never happened at all, craning my neck to see the light blinking rapidly above me repeatedly, unfailingly.

Almost weekly I'd get my lollipop from the front desk where Lois worked before I went, and as I got older I noticed her start sending me more and more sympathetic glances whenever I walked in.

Back then it was more often than not that I was sick with a cold or a case of strep throat. Being a kid it was from my growing immune system getting to know the world and building itself up through trial and error. It was common knowledge that the school, the playground, and of course the doctors' office had their fair share of germs. That was one of those things everyone was supposed to automatically know without ever actually being told. Unless it was a mom or dad scolding a child for touching something without an explanation as to why they weren't supposed to in the first place. And that was their way of telling them not to do it again.

By age fifteen I stopped exploring. It was growing to be too much of a burden on the workers and patients to walk around my wandering body. Without knowing it I was in the way, but I was already becoming too sluggish and overwhelmingly tired to plead with them anyway. So from then on I stayed sat in the same chairs cluttering the reception room. The ones' I'd once been forced to climb onto as a toddler. I sat and waited patiently for my name to be called; to get results, or a testing, or a checkup.

I grew up for seventeen years in the same room with the same doctor and the same static tv screen no one ever thought to turn off or fix. The bottom line was that the squint-worthy lighting never bothered my eyes. The chill from the air conditioning didn't cover my skin with goosebumps. And growing up waiting for the minimum number of weeks I'd be left to live was routine.

I just didn't know it yet.

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Disclaimer:
I do not own or am in any way affiliated with the members of the band 5 Seconds of Summer. I only use them as characters in this little short story of mine as fictional representations of real people- same goes for the rest of the said cast for this story. All other characters are made up. This is simply a fictional story from the works of my crazy imagination.
The events to transpire are all fictional.
This is for entertainment purposes only.

All rights reserved.
Please do not copy or distribute my work.
(although I'm pretty sure that it isn't good enough to steal)

Also:
Dedicated to sleepyluke because she's one of the writers who inspired me to put my works out there!

Now that that's out of the way, please enjoy reading! This is my very first story I've had enough courage to publish on Wattpad.

(I'm a big scaredy cat and don't want to get in trouble for copyrighting or anything of the sorts. Better safe than sorry, okay? okay.)
(I am in no way affiliated with the author or characters in TFIOS (-:)