Fatal matrimony(Not Completed... Yet)

11. Date

The thing about cancer booklets and websites or whatever are that whenever you read them, they always list depression among the side effects of cancer. But, in fact, depression is not a side effect of cancer.

It's a side effect of knowing that you are the side effect, inconsequential to the so called civilized society. And all you can really do is just exist, trying to not be a live grenade for the people you love.

And that in short, describes what most cancer patients seem to feel the whole duration of their existence.

Not like I was going to be diagnosed with cancer anytime soon, but I was certainly veritably swimming in a paralyzing and totally clinical haze of depression. And it certainly felt like cancer. The pain, I mean, it was a ten on ten.
The great and terrible ten slamming me again and again as I lay in my bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling.

Okay, I may have read a cancer article or two in this website I discovered this morning. The faint stirrings of hope I had felt last night are long gone.

What was I hoping for anyway? That some expensive private ball and one excessively circumventing reticent man could cure me?

I had lost not just my family, but also an entire future. A future that they should've been a part of. A future that I had envisioned long back, with them in it. That had never really been in my grasp. You've been trying to keep up with the supernatural for too long. My inner critic is up already, yawning and stretching like a cat.

Every morning was like this. Unbearable. Every second worse than the last. It was painful even recalling the memories. Even the pleasure of remembering had been taken away from me, because my parents weren't here to remember with. It felt like losing the memory itself, like all the things we'd done together were now less real and ebullient than before.

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Eventually, it comes to my attention that I can't stay in bed all day, replaying things in my mind that obviously don't warm the cockles of my heart.

Anyways, the only side bitches I tolerate are my different varieties of depression and I'm just not in the mood for a buffet. You know that doesn't make sense. Wow, my inner critic is on a roll.

Surefire way to shove depression out the door..... Comfort food. Works every time. I decide comfort food's what I need.

I got up and made the bed. It was beautiful outside. Morning was always beautiful in Carmel. My garden looked simply lovely. Small, perfect and filled with wildflowers. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe I'd just avoided the place so long. I slid the glass door aside and stepped out into the garden. The bare grass tickled my feet. I walked slowly, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air.

I halfway turned and then remembered. They aren't here to share it with, my inner critic says quietly. For once, her tone is not judgmental or sneering.

I sat down, curling up, my chin resting on my knees. I enjoyed the sun. I wanted to lie back and let the sun warm my face. But I was sure I would fall asleep again if I did. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled the grass that swayed around my motionless form.

And for a moment, I felt at peace. This was much of an echo of my past. My perfect past. How many times had I complained about trivial things, wanting more, desiring more? How many times had I fought with my parents for things that just seemed so insignificant now?