Breaking The Surface

1. Back To School From A 6 Year Holiday

Bianca's POV

I stood before my closet eyeing my various options: Pink sweater, purple sweater, yellow spaghetti top, white tank top. I glanced at my pants: black plain shorts, striped shorts, polka dotted shorts, studded shorts, jeans shorts. After glancing through almost all of my clothes I sat down right outside my closet and actually thought about everything that happened.

I had been a leukemia patient and survived. Wow, that really was something now, wasn't it? I had lived most of my life in hospitals and formed sweet friendships with my fellow patients. However, none of us got too close as we feared the other may die without a moment's notice. Oh and they did. It was horrid you know, to tell your friend who had been an inpatient for two weeks that you'll were best friends and have them drop off the face of the planet the next day. My friends (the few that still interacted with me) and family told me I was their source of strength and inspiration. They said that they loved me and I knew they did. All along I never really felt all that bad for myself. I knew it sucked and that kids generally felt horrid and went into depression when they got so sick that they had to live the kind of life I lived. I felt nothing.

This was a strange thing to feel you know, there was the feeling of hurt, pain, confusion, triumph, joy and many other such feelings. I'd read about such things, heard of them and definitely seen it on the faces of people I knew. Like my parents for instance, I saw these emotions pass over their face as I went through the many phases of treatment and battled out my cancer. The triumph and euphoria was amazing to see on my parents' faces when the doctor smiled at us around my hospital bed and said that after much discussion with my other doctors, years of perseverance, care and strength I was more or less cured with perfect provisions in case of a relapse and could go and live my life as I wanted. The look on my parents' face was priceless. All along things had sort of sucked, but now they didn't suck. That was the only difference. I thought a wave of deep held in emotions would wash over me and I would be over the moon, but I continued to wait for the wave while feeling nothing. I felt so strange, I would wonder why I felt so little while at the back of my mind I knew that it was because I always held myself back and didn't let myself feel too much. This feeling of nothing defined my comfort zone and I now stuck to it.

I thought back to the time when I had got horrid migraines which left me feeling like my head would burst open at any moment. At those times I would just wonder if dying were all that bad. I could barely remember the times that I had had seizures, but I knew that they had come with the same certainty that I knew that I was alive.

I was moving from my small hometown of Colebrook. My parents thought I should start afresh and I agreed. I was supposed to finish packing by the end of the night because my flight was scheduled to leave at 10 in the morning. I looked around my room and realized it seemed rather familiar and unfamiliar simultaneously. I had spent such little time in this space and so much more in my hospital bed. I had gone into coma a number of times. I remembered three of these times distinctly. The doctor's would go on about low platelet counts and other such things while I would lie there wondering how my body could betray me so easily and repeatedly.

It was definitely a good idea to move out of this town. I would be moving southward where it was warmer. That was awesome considering that I didn't like the cold. If I had to choose between suffering extreme heat or extreme cold, I would definitely pick heat. I would continue to stay on the coast considering that I think I pretty much won't be able to live comfortably in any other kind of climate.

Well, my parents promised to take me shopping once we got there so what I packed wouldn't matter all that much. I threw in a couple of shorts of each kind, noticing that I only owned shorts and one pair of jeans for the first time. Geez, when did that happen! I grabbed the first five shirts I found and threw them into my suitcase. I threw in my lingerie and bathroom kit along with my massive collection of bracelets. I had a small book of poetry I wrote as a kid. I threw that into my bag. Why did I stop writing poetry in the first place? I definitely enjoyed it while I did it. I didn't abandon writing as a whole though. I'd write whatever I thought on my laptop. I even wrote down letters to my loved one's in case I died.