My choice before my body's

She was why I did it. 

Trembling with terror, yelling before the bullet hit my head. God, the sound of the trigger almost being pulled all the way was like blowing cold air into someone's ear. That last blink, trying to find something memorable around me to hopefully bring me joy once and for all/ It wasn't the case.

The gun, a Smith and Wesson 642 Airweight was on the verge of falling out of my hands. The stress and relief of ending my life was making my palms as sweaty as a dog begging for a few drops of water. My last breath, my last words, my last of everything worth living for. 

It's almost been two years since I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. This type wasn't the most painful out of all the other cancers. I felt the pressure of the tumor pressing my blood vessels which cause throbbing and persistent headaches. The brain itself has no pain receptors which leads to less pain than other cancers such as blood or breast cancer.

I got diagnosed the Summer of 2016 on August 5th. The doctor called us into their office to explain what was going on. After what doctor Black told us, the tumor had been growing for weeks already and turned out to be malignant. I was 13 at that time yet I understood every piece of information they gave us. I was with my mom and sister when we got the devastating news.

My dad left our lives the day I was born. We've never been rich and my dad was convinced that if I came to life, the whole family would be living off food stamps. All he wanted was for my mom to get an abortion which she refused to do. So it was settled, my dad made it clear that the day I came to life unless I died, he would leave for "good". Part of me feels guilty for being able to be living and causing so much trouble with my dumbass brain tumor. 

A lot of people keep repeating these same words to me over and over again. From the "aww, honey, I know what you're going through" and the "get well soon!", those few words made me question my life. They all think they know what I'm going through but they really don't. All I want to holler in all these people's faces is: shut the fuck up.

You must be feeling bad for me at this point, right? Well, don't. If you knew me in person, you wouldn't even dare to look at me straight in the eyes or even speak. I'm just "that girl". I used to go to Eastlake High until I got expelled for bringing a knife to school. 

The only reason I bought an Opinel to school was for safety and self-harm. As a freshman, I constantly couldn't stop thinking about the day I'd die. Death never scared me but I did want to be prepared for the day it'll come. I used to go in the unisex bathroom, pulled out my rusty knife and slowly swang the skinny blade across my bony wrists. 

I got caught by this short Indian girl who couldn't believe what she was seeing and started screaming as loud as a hawk. I tried to shut her up but by that time, an English teacher came in running to see what was going on. 

I got sent to the nurse's office to cover my scars then the principal's office.