I wipe my eyes looking at a photo of my self two years ago. My skin had so much colour, my hair was thicker and my eyes were full of happiness. I miss that feeling, happiness... My mother tries to get me help, but I think I'm fine. Scratch that, I like to think I'm fine. The reality is that sometimes I do feel depressed, but who doesn't? Some feel overwhelmed by school issues, family issues, my source of sadness comes from my sickness. I know I'm not supposed to make cancer my life, but it's hard when it's all people see in me. Every time I meet a new person, I don't get the smile of an excited new friend anymore, I get the sympathetic 'I'm sorry for you' smile, and honestly? It's a pretty shitty feeling.
I roll onto my back, groaning. "Ugh my god," I say, wiping my eyes again. I hate crying, it makes me feel weak. I know that seems like a display of emotional strength, the amount of effort it takes for me to cry just leaves me gasping for air at the end.
I hear my alarm go off on my phone and I sit up. I walk over to my closet and grab another oxygen tank, having to use every bit of my strength to carry the damn thing. You'd think something that's literally filled with air would be a little easier to lift. I end up waddling back to my bed and accidentally dropping the tank, making a loud 'bang'.
"Lyra?!" I mum calls as she runs up the stairs. She bursts into my room and looks at me. "What happened? Are you okay?" She asks. I nod, bending down and standing the tank back up.
"Yea... Just dropped the... the tank." I say, finding it quite hard to breathe.
"Honey, I've told you to use the potable ones." My mum says, going into my cupboard and fishing out one of my portable oxygen tanks. I hate those ones, I have to carry it around instead of wheeling it. "Yes, but you only use portable things when going places. And I'm not going anywhere." I say, unhooking my navel wires from the tank. I see my mum roll her eyes and check the oxygen levels of the portable pack. "Really? I thought you said you used this yesterday while I was at work." She said. I shook my head.
"No, I said I might use it. As in I might not have actually gone to the hospital yesterday." I said. My mum looks at me like I just slapped her. The hospital I go to has this program where people, cancer-ridden or not, go and help the sick children. You can play music, colour in, anything needed to help the kids cope with their sickness. The problem is that I'm barely coping with my sickness. But my mother doesn't need to know that.
Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with the kids. There's this one girl, Angi, who's about 6 and just the sweetest girl I've ever met. It just makes me so upset that she doesn't get to live her life as a normal kid.
After the kids leave, which is usually about after about 30 minutes, all us 'Big Kids' get a chance to do whatever we want. The leader of the group, Andrew, tries to get us to talk about our feelings, but none of us do it. We just sit around and talk to our friends until we get picked up. By 'we', I mean the royal we, as in I don't actually have friends in the group. I just don't seem to get along with the other kids in the group. The kids with cancer always try to one-up me with their issues and emotions, and the normal kids just make me jealous.
I snap back to reality when my mum waves her hand in my face. "Sorry, hm?" I ask. She rolls her eyes again, she does that a lot actually. "I said, you're going today." She said. I let out the loudest groan of my life and flop back on my bed. "C'mon, it'll be fun." She says with a smile. I shake my head.
"Mum, it's depressing. The kids are all laughing and happy on the outside, but on the inside, they know that it might be the last time they do. Then after they leave, Andrew, the big douche, tries to get us to talk about our experiences and how we're coping, and that's even more depressing because everyone knows exactly how the others feeling. We feel like we're dying, and that's exactly what's happening and I don't want to deal with that today because guess what? I know I'm sick and I know I'm dying and--" I stop myself when I see my mum cover her mouth with one hand, starting to cry. "No mum, stop, please. That's not what I meant." I say, hugging her.
"I'm sorry... I just feel so bad." She says, wiping her eyes.
"Don't feel bad okay? It's my sickness, I'm dealing with it." I say, then I realised that it probably didn't help. "Look... I guess I could go for one more day..." I say. My mum smiles and nods.
"Good. Now let's get you hooked up." She says.---------------------------------------------------
Hey guys! How'd you like the first chapter of Beyond The Stars? I went through so much effort to actually post this and it feels so good to actually do it. I hope you liked it 🖤
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Beyond The Stars
FanfictionLyra May is an 18-year-old girl with lung cancer and is desperate for a happy ending Daniel Seavey is a 19-year-old boy with a song in his heart who loves helping people with his music She's a ticking time bomb and he wants nothing more to help her...