Pieces of Thoughts

Sick

Most of the times I took it pretty good. Sick wasn't going to define me. Yes, it was harder to be myself, but what is simple in life anyway?
But it was those times when my mom brought it up, that I felt a lump in my throat.
"It's just hard, you know," she said a couple of days after being diagnosis, "see you struggle so much."
I had always thought that it was just gonna be my battle. But I was wrong. It wasn't a one vs. one battle. It was me, my mom, my dad, my brother, and my friends, vs. the many troubles and difficulties my sickness had brought with it.
And she was right. It was hard to see me struggle. But it was hard not to. I looked at my life back then, when I used to be that careless, free girl. And now I was here, in my bed, doing nothing in particular,knowing that the old me would probably be out, calling someone to hang out.
But I had no choice then to like this new life. Were everything was slower. Less sparky. Less smiles. Less freedom.
"I don't know how you can do this." Would another thing my mom would usually say.
"I wish things were different."
"Thank you for still trying to smile. I know it's hard."
"Are you ok?"
"It hurts me so much to have you in this state."
Same old, same old.
But when she wasn't saying these, life was easy. Easy as I accepted it and tried to take advantage of it. Because after all, I couldn't waste my time with what if' 's. So much free time, I studied. No sports, I read. No strength, I rested.
My whole life was stuck on a pause bottom. My love for socializing, for sports, for drama, for life. And the disc was changed to a more solemn one, such kept repeating, again and again.
But that, was ok too.
It was different. But not bad. It was just quiet, my ex enemy.
There were days though it was all just too hard. It was hard to see my friends going for adventures, knowing I couldn't even though I wanted. It was hard to wake from two hour nap, knowing everyone else in class had been learning and wide awake, not with sleepiness over their shoulder every single freaking second.
A night, I liked to close my eyes and replay the day again, but this time the me that I knew joining the adventures, not sleeping in random moments.
That's the thing. Everyone has it hard. Different ways, different spots, but we all had it. Our struggles, our weight on the shoulder.
It didn't really make a difference, right? After all, we all struggled. Period.