The Living Dead

2.

For two days after my trip to the hospital, I sat locked in my room. I'd leave for bathroom trips and food breaks, but nothing other than that.

I was conscious of the fact that I was being stupid; I was wasting time that I barely had in the first place. For an 18 year old, I haven't done much that could be considered "fun". School was always a priority for me--homework over house parties. I wish I knew I was going to die at an early age so I could have actually had some fun. High school was a total bust.

My laptop has been my new best friend for the past two days. I've been researching things about melanoma cancer, more specifically stage four melanoma cancer. I've become obsessed with learning everything I can about it. Some people are obsessed with bands; for me, it's my cancer.

Take note that it's not looking too good for me.

I remember noticing a change in me at one point (now I know it was a change caused by the cancer). The usually perky, energetic me, turned tired and irritable. I didn't do anything for a solid month at one point, possibly even more. Most of the time I was grounded for being pissy with my parents. I tried staying out of my parents way, but that didn't change the fact that I just didn't try to go out.

I definitely regret a lot. I regret not going to all those parties that Alex and I got invited to, I regret not pursuing any guys I liked (nor doing anything with any of them. The only thing I was doing was my homework). I had so many opportunities to be a stupid teenager and I didn't take any of them.

People talk about an experience that'll happen when they're older. When they know they're dying, they're 85, and they regret their lives. They regret not having fun and wasting all their time worrying about stupid stuff.

I'm 18 and I'm going to have to experience this soon.

This is the sole reason why I wanted treatment. I want to be able to do the things that most people will. I want to get my own family and my own job and have my own life.

"Lexi!" I heard my dad call. "Dinner."
I was angry for the disruption, but I shut my laptop regardless and walked downstairs. I knew I'd get yelled at if I didn't.

The smell of chicken was extremely overwhelming and new. Usually my parents never cooked, so I had a feeling that I was in for a lecture tonight. My parents always do that; they'll always cook something from scratch if they're going to yell at me. Most of the time it's dessert, though. They're not the best cooks.

I pulled out the chair and took my spot where I usually sat. Everyone was already silently eating, my parents exchanging looks and my sister, Callie, on her phone.
I stuck my fork into my chicken and shoved it in my mouth despite not even being hungry. I was forcing myself to eat, I guess. I've lost enough weight already, even though it was completely unintentional. (You know. Cancer symptom, I guess).

Dinners were not usually this awkward. Usually, there'd be some talking and laughing. Except, right now, everybody in this room was pissed off at me.

"So," My dad starts, his deep voice startling me. I knew the lecture was starting. "Mom says your not getting treatment."

I rolled my eyes. "Well mom should stop talking about things that she doesn't know anything about," I replied. I stuck another piece of chicken in my mouth.

"You know, I'm really pissed off at you right now," My mom added.

I nodded my head. "Yep, you've made that very clear," I sighed. The screaming at me was a dead giveaway, honestly.