Dreams • short Eazy E fan fic [Completed]

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Some dreams stay dreams while some dreams come true.

I was always told this.  I've always been a dreamer since I was a little girl, but all I got in return was brutal nightmares that has scarred me.

And the worst part...there is nothing that I could do about it.

My name is Zaria.

Zaria Marie Simpson and I am seventeen years old and dying. I was diagnosed with Lupus at the tender age of twelve years old. 

Lupus is a disease in where my immune system attacks the organs within my body. This disease can range from mild to severe. With it being mild, people can live a normal life with this disease.

But me...I wasn't so lucky.

I was told by the doctor I don't have long to live.  I am literally fighting for my life.

I ask god all the time, "Why me?"

I won't live to attend college, have children and my own family, or anything else I dream of. Life isn't fair.  I'll be lucky if I live to see graduating from high school.

I know god has his chosen ones destined for greatness.

Maybe I wasn't the chosen one. Maybe I'm exactly what I've felt seventeen years of living.

Insecure. A waste of space. A charity case.

Worthless.

I live in Georgia with my mom.

My father?

He's been none existent since the day I was identified at a young age with this severe case of Lupus. It's not like I asked for it, but he treated the situation as such.

His last words I've heard him say echoed in my head every day since then;

"Nina...I can't deal with this" he says to my mom.

I laid on the semi-soft sheets of the hospital bed, looking around at the bright lights. The smell of Lyso filled my lungs and the muttering voices of the doctors and nurses echoed throughout my ear drum.

These doctors stood who stood in their spiffy uniforms with the name "Northside Hospital" embedded in it talked about me as if I was some type of experiment and not a human being.

How they are going to run tests on me to expand my life expectancy, while some doctors say they've done all they can do. My body is shutting down and now I just have to....wait.

With everything occurring, I knew from that point on; nothing will be the same ever in my life.

My dad sniffled as he used his hands to wipe his red-teary eyes as he spoke:

"My daughter is dying and you want me to be okay with this? I don't mean to leave you to deal with this on your own, but it's no point to stick around if she going to just die anyways. Its best if I leave now to have this last memory of her being alive". 

My mom didn't even utter a word. We watched as he exited the tan door and disappeared, leaving without a trace.

That was the last memory I've had of my father.

How nice right?

My mom and I living conditions would be considered middle class compared to some of the other people who lived in my neighborhood.

But being that mom is a single parent and she's paying lots of money for doctor visits, therapy visit and treatments for me; it's hard on her and her pockets.