Lies don't Lie

The Journal

It’s the loud whipping of air hitting the side of my face giving that shiver down my spine. The rooftop was completely empty when I took the last step closing the metallic door after me. Even the loud whirling of air is echoing inside my ear as I made my way to the edge.

I got my hand shoved inside my pocket as I neared the two step stairs through the edge of the roof, where you can actually see the actual view outside the hospital, where you can actually breathe the difference of life and death. I slowly placed my duffel bag on one of the corners before making my way up the stairs.

I literally gasped when I was able to let my feet dangle on the edge, I can feel the volume of air pushing my feet upwards, it just felt so good. I let a shaky breath escaped my lips when I was finally able to relax a bit and just let my eyes relish the view before me. My eyes were still burning from all the crying and I was still a little out of breath.

If people would ask me if what I am feeling right at this moment, I don’t know if I can even answer. This day, it’s way too much to handle. My brain and chest felt numb from all those things that I have heard this day, the day was about to come to an end and I think everything too including Santana and me, even the mere thought itself made my head spin. Just when I shoved my hand a little deeper for the place was getting a little colder.

Sighing, I got my fingers quivering as I held Santana’s journal in my hands, my mind flooded with those thoughts and ideas. I wish I have enough courage to read what’s inside this, I wish I have enough tears to cry when I’ll be able to understand everything. I’m scared with all these, I’m scared of what might have been written in here. I’m afraid of those stuffs that I might find out. I wanted to open my mind of what explanation she might have.

I shakily flipped the cover and let my eyes wander the first paragraph written. I can't help but let a small smile linger on my lips as her hand writing made its way to my eyes. Santana happens to have the best hand writing I have ever seen, it looks like a real font in some way.

My breath was literally caught up in my lungs as I read the first few words. There was a small date written on the corner indicating that she had this journal a month before the wedding.

So, my therapist told me to have something like this so that I could control my feelings when it comes to other people. Well, let’s see, I may have to sue her if didn’t came out like that. I really don’t know what to call this, a diary or a journal? I’d definitely go with the latter it sounds so mature, I may have to slap myself if I’d call this diary, what am I 9? But whatever I might as well try this.

I can’t help the giggles that escape my lips as I flipped more pages, this has to be Santana’s, definitely.

When Sam called me earlier, Brittany was there beside me looking at me expectantly as if she was asking as to why I’m not answering it yet. I got myself frozen in my place, Sam never calls me, it’s been years since the last time he rang my phone promising that he will call me the next when he’s already able to find cure for my disease, which in his first choice is a heart transplant.

Just when the first time I felt the burning in my chest and the unusual feeling of breathiness there’s only one thing that came into my mind; Brittany. I was so scared, I was terrified when Sam told me that 30% of those who undergo that operation were more likely to work and the rest were most likely to fail and judging by the difference, I was kind of expecting I might be one of those 70%, and just the thought itself is giving me those little spindles of pain. I might leave one of this days, I might leave her. Sam told me that I was next in line, that I need a month to think about it and prepare for the operation. Just when I heard his words, my eyes landed on Brittany cuddling my hoodie in her arms, that one moment when she said ‘yes’ replaying in my mind, yet another trail of thought crossed my mind, I’ve been waiting for 3 years, 3 years of endless thoughts that I can’t just leave like that, I can’t die without doing anything about it, I can’t just throw everything because of this disease, I can’t leave Brittany knowing that I might have done something to extend my life yet I didn’t because I was scared of actually losing her in an instant through that operations. We’re about to get married and I’m about to die, my chest tightened in an instant, my heart pounding almost unbearable, by that I know I have to make a decision.