supernova

22

With all the carbon dioxide emissions, the rain's pH level is about a 5.6. Slightly acidic.

It wouldn't burn.

Like crying alone on Christmas morning.

I never thought I'd be crying alone on a Christmas morning.

I think I'm just scared of losing my mom. In a way, I'd be alone.

Yea, I would have all my friends and all, but it's different because I'd be an orphan.

I sat in my undecorated house at seven thirty and cried on the couch with a warm blanket.

I put it in the dryer for five minutes.

My mom said I wasn't aloud at the hospital today until dinner so I could "do something cooler."

It pissed me off because I want to spend her last Christmas with her.

So, I did the next best thing; Hallmark movies. The amount of serotonin I get from binge watching these overpowers the crash three days later, when I'm reminded of reality.

I don't think I've ever felt as alone as I do right now. I don't think, I've ever felt as scared of losing some as much as I do right now. I don't think, I'm ready to take on reality after my mom dies.

What I'm going through right now, is just a portion of that reality. From the way I see it, I don't think I'm making it past eighteen. I don't see myself being alive and happy past that. I don't see a future where I'm one hundred percent happy.

Maybe I'm better off dead.

Maybe I didn't do enough for my mom.

Maybe that makes both of their deaths my fault.

Maybe that's why I'm better off dead, and don't see myself after eighteen.

Overthinking is a beautiful thing.

I laid in bed on the living room couch the entire day complaining to myself about everything.

Sometimes, you're the best therapist for yourself.

Not all the time though, I can be very rude to myself, but seeing that I am the way I am, it makes sense.

When it was time to head to the hospital, I head to my bathroom and threw on a pair of black leggings and a green ugly sweater and grabbed my moms present for her before heading out.

I hadn't eaten anything, but I didn't really care, I just wanted to see my mom on Christmas.

"Merry Christmas, Ma!" I exclaimed rushing into the room throwing my arms around her.

"Merry Christmas, Arabella," her voice was calmer and more tired. She smile reached her tired eyes, and she looked completely exhausted.

"Let's get something to eat, for the both of us," I said quietly. I ordered the both of us some mashed potatoes and a burger. She got water and I got some orange juice.

I had never expected to spend Christmas like this, but it was peaceful. We were cozy and comfortable.

"So what are you wearing to that New Year's party on Thursday night?" she asked.

"Probably just some short dress," I replied with uncertainty.

"You will be cold." Her statement was was a stereotypical foreign mother phrase and I guess it came from her having an immigrant parent, so I gave a stereotypical response.

"Ma, I don't get cold," I affirmed and she rolled her eyes at me. "I was thinking, I would do something a bit, riskayy," I half purred and she widened her eyes when she understood what I meant.