They have invaded. Invaded the only place I knew what safe. The only untouched place I knew I could go for a break; my mind. The place where tsunami waves of pure golden love could splash over me and I couldn't stop the smile that covered my face in an ultimate glory. Glory that seemed to last for infinity until my eyelids had painfully lifted and I was brought back to my black and gray world. The world that had fed me non-stop lies, non-stop misery, and non-stop tears.
Feeling a sickness in my stomach that i'm being watched, my hands claw at my throat beging that it claws through the skin and pushes bad memories out with the tainted blood. Voices swarm my head with the few words that have followed me through all my seventeen years. All my dreadful, miserable, awful seventeen years. Veins pump the blood under my thin pale skin, making my heart warm more and more. The white gown with light blue dots adorns my body. I've never been skinny, nor fat, but a nice in between. Lovely, some may say. Grey socks basically hang over my feet, trying to cling onto my skin but fail miserably. Cancer corses through my brain and I miss my red hair that once hang down my back.
Boys seemed to be attracted fairly often to my fiery attitude as much as my fiery red hair. Fiery isn't the right word, maybe strawberry. Strawberry hair that contantly smelled like curling iron and cigarette fumes. Book pages seem to drown out the thoughts that constantly nagged at my brain. Telling me that it's killling me at the moment, telling me that I don't have that much time before I'm down six feet. Edward telling Bella that the lion fell in love with the lamb wasn't enough to sastisfy myself. I need another story to tell me about somebody like me. Non-fiction only told me that I still was hopeless. Romances didn't intrerest me as much as it did when I was fiften. Crusty walls never heard me peep when I read, which I constantly did. My aunt wasn't home that much. She was usually trying to work to get enough cash to pay for my medicine. She still is. I miss her too.
Beeping sounds from the black screen that has a teal line that follows a path that somehow manages to track a barely pumping heart. Windows cover a majority of the wall beside my bed. Daylight shines through and if I wasn't falling apart, I would shine with it. But instead of shining, I sit here, silently burning.I was never one that would go outside much. I wasn't the one that went out to parites to rebel agaisnt my problems or anything. Instead, I spent most of my long childhood cooped up in a one room apartment, only going outside to go to school. My mom passed away and my dad couldn't take care of me on his own, so I live with my aunt. She's good company, when she's home. She's not a drinker or anything, she is a work-aholic. Because of me, she has to work everyday to pay off for my hospital bills.
Clouds float by, casting a whie shine into the quite large room. Taking in my surroundings, I notice a desk sat in the corner and an enterance door is right next to the head of my bed. Windows also cover the enterance wall but they are covered with cheap blinds, shielding me from the passing people. The walls are painted a calm dark blue and white, sort of matching my gown. Blankets drape over my body. Sweat accumlates on my body but my constant chills shake my body. A small beside table sits next to my head. Chairs are scattered around the room, far too big just for me.
I learn up a bit, trying to see more of my surroundings. The floor is made up of grey-ish, once white, tiles. The door opening doesn't hold much. The lightening outside of my room is more of a golden glow. Mine is a darkish blue shine. Or maybe that's just how I feel.
Books sit on the desk beside my bed. I reach over to grab it. Brown dust covers the front, singalling that it hasn't been touched in a while. Through the dust, the cover reads Twilight. Sighing, I sit the book back down on the desk. Romances never interested me. I've never had a romance in my life, all I had was my sickness and the crummy walls aquainted with wet dark blue carpet. The wet carpet always gave off a horrid smell but it seemed to put me to sleep, even with a tumor growing in my four-year-old-brain. Instead, Robert Frost's talking about nature and the road that nobody chose soothed me in a way that not even my mother could.
