Dear Gisella {On Hold}

3| His face looks like a shrivelled pineapple

Dear Gisella,

"Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you."

I heard that somewhere; I don't recall where.

I was going through some cancer-diagnosed autobiographies, yano, searching for something to relate to? Cause what most people don't understand is that depression is a disease too. It kills your cells and weakens your mind, just not your body. Anywho, going through it all, I realised something: most patients who survived against cancer claimed to have been inspired by something, or someone.

I want to be inspired too, Gizzy. And I have been. By that quote^

I need you to be inspired too. Not necessarily by this quote, of course not. I'd never force something like this upon you. No. But for now, it's all I have to give you. Offer you. Salvatiom.

Sure. I'm dead. Gone. Kaboom.

That. Does. Not. Mean. You. Die. Too.

I meant that like, metaphorically, not literally. NOT that dying literally is an acceptable option, jeez, no. I meant, don't shut the world out, babygirl. You still have air in your lungs, "brains in your head and feet in your shoes". Don't retreat to that hole you hide in.

Let the world in, love.

And watch it bathe you in light.

Love

Jayden

I hate cats.

Like, why? What's the purpose of their existence? They don't do anything. They just lie low, and stare at you, and they judge and judge and judge. And did I mention they judge?

I stared at Tabby. He stared at me.

"Leave." I snarled

He continued to stare at me.

I point stiffly to the gate.

"Now."

He eyed me coolly, then stretched gracefully and strolled..... in the direction opposite to what i had pointed out. Into my house.

"what the...", I sighed.

I ran after Tabby and blocked his path. "Dude, please. I can't have you here. Mom and Dad won't let me" I plead.

His green eyes showed no mercy.

I raised my arms up in frustration. "Fine, then, you selfish bastard." I picked him up and took him inside, and up to my room, careful not to let my parents catch sight of his mangled white fur. I sneaked him into my room, upturn an old shoebox containing my collection of polaroids, and set him down.

"Now, Tabby" I said, diplomatically.

Okay fine, pleadingly.

"Don't get out of this room, you hear me? Stay. S-T-A-Y. Stayyyy. Okay? I'll try and find someone who'll look after you, cool?"

He didn't reply. Which is a pretty good thing, come to think of it.

I slipped into my weathered jeans and a cream jumper, and tied my hair into it's usual high pony. I walked down the hallway and entered Mom and Dad's room, where Mom was still in bed. What a surprise.

Taking 20 bucks out of her purse, I strolled out her room, down the stairs, and out the front door. I was too lazy to make my lunch. Sue me.

On my way to school, I stopped numerous times. To stare at trees, birds, and to kick the occasional puppy or two.