side effects

prologue

    I'm dying. 

    Well, everyone is going to die at some point in their life, but it just so happens I'm going to die a little sooner. 

    Okay, a lot sooner. 

    The average lifespan for a human female (I'm a human female, in case you were wondering) is eighty years. The average lifespan for Marnie Wayward (I'm Marnie Wayward, in case you were wondering) is eighteen years. 

    I'm currently seventeen years old. 

    I'm not a pessimist. In fact, I consider myself to be the most positive person here in Maple Haven, North Carolina. It's just that it's been a proven fact that within a couple of months I'm going to cross the great divide. And it's all because of that damn cancer. 

    That's what my mom says. It's all she ever says now. I've got a cough? It's cause of the cancer. My boyfriend of three years dumped me yesterday? It's cause of the cancer (well, this one is actually the truth. He said and I quote, "I don't want to date someone I'm going to outlive." A load of bull, if you ask me.) You're feeling depressed? It's that damn cancer again. 

    I think it's mostly because Mom is just an angry person. She's pissed at the world. I don't blame her. If she was going to die, I'd stop going to church too, because how could God make this happen to someone as freaking awesome as me?

    That's what I say on the outside. On the inside, I'm just as angry. On the inside, I don't joke around or smile or tell myself I'm content with dying, because is anyone ever really okay with leaving this world? Leaving your loved ones behind? Not graduating high school. College nothing but dream slipping your grasp. 

    But that's just the morbidity of it all. Hazel Grace Lancaster once said, "...in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer. Depression is a side effect of dying". (My best friend, Lizzie, bought the book for me once she found out about my condition. I think it's supposed to make me feel better because she kept saying how strong Hazel is and how much I am like her, but in the end she died too. Although, I wouldn't mind having an Augustus.) 

    So, yeah, you've got your bad side effects, but you also have your good ones. The ones that made my last few months in the same, washed-up town and my last few days in the local hospital worth living. 

    Lizzie Macintosh once said, "Damn it, Marnie Wayward. You are not dying, okay? You are living. You are living damn good." 

    Granted, it was said inbetween sobs and snot wiping, but the message came through clear. Because I wasn't just living for Lizzie, or my mom, or that one boy who I was selfish enough to fall head over heels with. 

    I was living for me. 

    I was living damn good. 

I really did mean for this to be chapter one, but I was writing it and I tried to find a way to fit in the first prompt but I couldn't so wah-lah. This was born. I hope you guys like it and I hope you stick around for the first chapter. Peace, love, and turtle doves. xx