Inevitable (BoyxBoy)

Prologue

Prologue:

"Now turn away,
Cause I'm awful just to see,
Cause all my hair has abandoned all my body,
All my, agony" ~ Cancer; MCR

Blue walls. White ceiling. I was never seeing anything but these things again it would seem. Plain wooden floors stretched across a small, kept room which I laid. Art canvases littered the floors, and decorated the walls, no two paintings alike. Bringing together the room was Christmas lights, hanging loosely off the walls. Even when I was little, I had never like the way a light bulb or a ceiling light had lit up the room. It had always seemed to bright, to distracting. When I had became sick, I had developed a sense of peace from the light Christmas strings of lights had produced. It was a glow, letting me forget what was on my mind, and focus on the task at hand, always being painting. Through stress, anger, sorrow, and fear I had always been able to show my emotions through paint. I could show you what I was feeling by painting a picture, and I could show you the words no one said by painting a picture. When I was younger, before I was diagnosed with leukemia I was this little ball of energy, snapping pictures of things that caught my eye left and right. Every angle you could imagine, every filter you've heard of, I would have a picture to show you. This went on for several years. Around the time the stomach aches had started, the headaches popped up, and so much as looking through a camera had set off a wave of pain. I was, unfortunately, cursed with stubbornness. Every passion I had once had, had put up a brave fight. As tough of a fight as they put up, cancer always one.

Cancer was end game.

I had come to believe cancer was the ultimate beast, taking out everything in its path. It not only tried to kill me and was burning my passions, but it also brought down the people I loved. The so few people I loved. There was simply no bright way to look at it. Life had decided it was tired of me, and had found the worst possible way to dispose of me. My heart once being filled with hopefulness and life was now filled with a numb sense of reality, Life wasn't like the novels, it had a bittersweet edge to it. If you ticked it off, karma was coming for you. I wasn't sure what I had done to tick off my life, but I had apparently crossed a line with it.

Life was a bittersweet tune, traveling through the wind, only stopping to blow through someone's hair, or take a child's breath away. My life had become a puzzle, and unfortunately there were many pieces missing. Without those missing pieces, I would never be whole again, and God knew where those pieces were, or what they even represented. I was simply a piece in this game we call life. I meant nothing, I was nothing. I wasn't holding the cards, so my best option was to go along with what came to me. I could have became a rag doll, totally unwanted, totally unneeded. But I think there was a part of me that wanted to be needed. This part of me hidden in the shadows was craving love and need. I wanted someone to think about their life being over when and if my life came to an end. I wanted someone who would rather die than lose me. As selfish as it sounded, it was a secret yearning. The hate high school brought, mixed with the dread hospital rooms absorbed into your skin. Negativity was a natural response for me, it was as easy as breathing. It wasn't my fault entirely though, there were the few lame excuses to be made. Obvious to the eye, my mother had given up on me long ago. I guess when I had lost hope, I really needed someone to have hope for me. To no avail. My mother had seen the dull pits in my soggy green eyes, and had let depression take over her icy blue ones. When my hair had started to fall, so had my spirit.

Yet even if my hair did grow back, my spirits remained shattered on the floor. There were so many broken fragments, it was impossible to piece my spirits back together again. All my agony revolved around myself, and I knew that. I knew I brought myself pain, and I didn't even try to stop it. There was simply no point. Trying to fix someone who was already broken was easier said than done, and it was even worse when you were trying to fix yourself. Losing myself was the worst was the worst thing I've done. Giving up was a close second. I had turned away from all that had mattered, from everything I needed. I had lost photography, my mother, my friends, and most importantly, myself. In my slumber, images of the people I loved raced through my mind. Unconsciously tears would wind their way down my thin cheeks, and wetting my lips. I would only notice this when I woke with a wet face, and a pounding headache. In my dreams, and unfamiliar pair of arms were wrapped around my waist, holding me protectively and possessively. Though I was unaware of who I was actually dreaming about, I found a sense of comfort from the dreams. It was sad really, that I found comfort from someone who only existed in my mind, but never the less this boy in my dreams brought me the feelings I yearned for. And he wasn't even a real person. I knew he was a boy, because being 'attracted to boys' I found it hard to believe I could feel such love for a girl. My best friend had in fact been a girl, but I didn't see Maddie as the person in my dreams. though I loved the blue haired girl with a burning passion, she could never fill the hole in my chest like the boy in my dreams did. I could never be happier than when I was in my dreams, even if the boy wasn't there with me. In my dreams, I was well, I was free, I was myself. In my dreams, there was no such thing as cancer. There was only peace, and love. Two things I seemed to be depriving myself of anymore.