Chuckles

The first thing to go was my hair. That’s the worst part of it, too. Before you reach acceptance, before you know if this is a war you are willing to wage. Before you decide to fight with all of your strength, because god dammit! It’s your life! Its a beautiful life and you are not going to let it slip through your fingers like drops of water! ...Oh, but don’t worry. They know. They point. They stare. They pretend to be nice because who wants to be mean to the girl with cancer? That’s what I hated the most. Being treated different. “You didn’t care about me yesterday! What makes me so goddamn special today!” I would yell. (Chuckles.) And the resentment. Oh, I hated all of them. Pawning their minutes away as if they were the richest people in the world… But they were. To me. They wasted away something so precious so easily. It broke my heart. But that’s the human condition. To suck up everything you can, to take until you bleed the planet dry. As if you deserve it! And one day, after everyone you loved is dead, after your face shows the wrinkles that your age can no longer hide… I ask you; was it worth it? Did you enjoy your perfect lives with your perfect bodies and your perfect friends? Did you use every moment that you were given to your advantage: an opportunity? No? No. I know someone who would have. So don’t look down at me and feel sorry. I don’t need your sympathy. Next, they made me stop going out. My new home was a small bed in a white room with white sheets and a tan linoleum floor—for color. My weakened muscles not allowing me to move… Oh, but don’t feel bad for not visiting; no one else did. It so happened that in my weakened condition, I discovered a love for the written arts. It was the words of Chaucer, Melville, and Dickens that carried me through the pits hell. Not the so called “backs” that you say are strong. The backs that lift you up and carry you through this life. Your backs mean shit to me. Day after day I got lost in the pages that would carry me miles. I thank that ground up pulp, those bindings for being my friends. Not you. So don’t walk around with your colored ribbons. They didn’t help me. They sure as hell wont help you. You think you show your support? Where were you when my muscles gave in? When blood-red tears streaked down my face from pain? When my heart stopped beating? Where were you when I needed you? You were wearing your fucking ribbons.