How To Love ✓

1.

Amara

As I sit in front of another blank canvas for the day in the spirit of inquiry, I think about the many things I had the opportunity to implement that would make my life meaningful.

I am pulled out of my string of thoughts as my mother places a sketch of a schizophrenic person in my view.

"What is this?" she pondered. We both stare at the anomalous charcoaled portrait for a while. When I finally look at her, I shrug, picking up a drawing pencil for what seemed like the first time this afternoon.

"Dr. Campbelle told me to find my inner passion and here it is. Seems as though my knack for Art has finally found its use," I responded while fixing the cannula that connected to my nose. I took a deep breath in every five seconds. The oxygen in the can that connected to the end of the tube really wasn't reviving me back to my normal life.

For all of those who are wondering why I just blurted that out, yes, I have sucky lungs, no I'm not dying. I have lung cancer.

A little reprehensible because wherever I go, I carry my life within my fingers. However, my objective is the opposite of startling the only friends I'll ever have so I won't go into too much detail just yet.

"How are you feeling since your last visit?" she crossed her thin arms over her stomach.

"Other than feeling like my life has no meaning and that what I do seems to not please those around me, I feel great! " I answered with a hint of sarcasm.

"Ha, very funny, watch the tone," she scolded, "you shouldn't be living your life to please others monkey. You think the only way to lead a meaningful life is for everyone to remember you."

"Well thank you for constantly reminding me how messed up my life is. Gosh! No wonder dad left," I rolled my eyes and continue to work on my piece, hoping to end this conversation.

"Amara Belle do not start with me," her voice raised a little and I knew that I wasn't going to hear the end of her. "You don't know what hell your father and I have gone through. You don't have any idea what I've been through."

"Mum you don't know what I'm going through," I emphasised.

"I don't want to seem like a nuisance to you mom. Ever since I was a little girl, I was always a problem. You don't even realise the pain I'm encountering."

"But do you think that gives you the right to make others feel like they aren't going through something that could be as equivalent, or even, WORSE than what you're going through? I view your struggle every single day Amara, but please, stop what you're doing for once and take a moment to think about how much I've put up with people who have eventually given up on you."

I rubbed my temples in defeat. I knew she was right. I felt really terrible for blurting that out and I regret everything. I know my mom was trying her hardest, she deserves better than what she has to go through with me on a daily basis.

I muttered a small but meangingful sorry.

She sighed and comes around to stand behind me. Tucking a loose strand of hair away from my eyes, she placed a subtle kiss to my hair and rubbed my shoulders apologetically.

"Do you ever follow the rules?" she asked suddenly with a raised brow.

I smiled, showing teeth. "When you tell me to do something, I'm always ready to do it."

"I just," she paused for a moment. I took this as a sign that she needed my full attention. I do a full 360 to face her.

"How about you go out for your birthday tonight? You are turning 18," she advised, changing the subject.