No Matter What (A Nash Grier Story)

Life is(n't) a Stage

Your whole life you start to build up for you future. You go to school for your future. Your parents take care of you and teach you for your future. You practice everything, for your future. Everything I had worked for, everything I had prepared for, my entire dream for the future had been torn away from me.

I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to move. No one, and nothing made me happy. Too many things were happening to me at once. I was bending, but now I'm breaking. It may seem over dramatic, but knowing that everything from the past 15 years hasn't mattered, gone to waste, down the drain, in the trash, is heart wrenching. Hour upon hours upon hours of hard work and dedication went into that.

Nash called and texted me a few times, but I didn't feel like looking at a screen or using my voice. I didn't want to see anyone, I wanted to lay in my bed, my covers covering everything bad in my life. I wish I had a force field.

My depression was moving along nicely, until Nash decided to show up. He didn't even knock. He busted right through the door, a worried expression on his face. Once he saw me, he crawled in bed with me. His arms wrapped around me and my head rested on his chest. The covers were on top of us, and there was no way I could, or wanted, to avoid him any longer. I snuggled my face into his sweatshirt and cried.

I felt like I was swallowed up into a river. And I also felt bad for getting all my salty tears on his sweatshirt. He held me tight as I let everything go. I was breaking, but he was fixing me, just by sitting there. He knew what was wrong without even asking. He had known that that was my biggest fear since I was diagnosed, and we both knew this would happen, but we were both to scared to say it out loud.

When there was nothing in my tear duct left to fall, I sat there holding him back. I felt his lips touch my head as I lyed there snuggling up to him like I was a little kid. He was so warm, and so comforting, and so perfect. I realized in that moment I loved him more than anything. I had loved him more than anything all along. The moment I'm in his presence is the moment I feel better. Performing is nothing compared to how much I loved him.

I brushed off my cheeks and looked up at him, my eyes staring into his big ones. A faint smile spread across my lips as I choked out the words "I love you." He smiled back at me and kissed me on the tip of my nose. He held me even tighter to him, there was nowhere else I would have rather been in that moment. I loved him.

*****

It had been a few weeks since I had been "asked to leave," and I was starting to get used to the life of not having hours and hours of rehearsals. It was almost nice actually. I had never had a break really from performing, pretty much since I had started. I didn't realize how much I actually needed a break, and how much I actually wanted one. I was a little nervous that I would like doing nothing so much, that I wouldn't want to return to theater once I was able to again.

I actually caught up on homework again. I actually had a social life again. I was hanging out and going to parties with my friends, and with Nash. I was starting to actually live a life again.

*****

Today was the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break. Me and Nash had planned to drive home together since we had grown up as neighbors. Our families had been best friends, and my younger brother, and his younger brother were the same age, going to the same school, and best friends. He had a younger sister, and an older brother. I have an older brother who works in New York also as a police officer. My mother was a stay at home mom until my brother was old enough to be left alone with one of us. Then she returned to nursing. A couple years later, she went back to school, and is now a doctor. My father is a hot-shot lawyer, meaning he's never home, when he is, he's hunched over in his office getting grey hair.

I'm really close to my grandmother. She had been my role model ever since I could say the word Nana. She was a long lost Broadway sensation. My Nana was and is an idol to me. She lived about 10 minutes away at home and I would often go see her, whether I was having a hard time, or just wanted to talk. She's pretty much a stereotypical grandmother, she cooks AMAZINGLY, she gives the best advice, her Christmas presents always suck, and she likes everyone.

Me and Nash were getting ready to go home for Thanksgiving. I was a little hesitant about seeing my family and extended family on Thanksgiving. No one had really seen me bald yet, and my family is going ask the dumb questions like "how are you feeling?" "is everything going alright?" "Are you okay?" or they are going try too hard to pretend like nothing's happened, "You look great! How've ya been!" All I know is I really didn't want to take crap from anyone, or be treated differently from my own family now that I don't have any hair. I knew my Nana wouldn't see me any differently and I couldn't wait to wrap my arms around the baggy old women.

As I was packing up the rest of the things I needed for the break, Nash burst into my room holding his phone infront of his face talking to it. "IT'S THANKSGIVING BREAK!" Then he stuck the phone in front of my face. I leaned in really close with a really weird, ugly face on. "UGLAMANAMA" I said into the speaker with my 10,000 chins. We watched the vine over and over cracking up at my face. In no time the vine had thousands of likes and revines.

We were finally headed on our way home. The music was cranked up as loud as my ears could stand it. He sat there dancing in the car and screaming the lyrics on the top of our lungs. We almost busted the speakers. After a bit longer of the car bouncing up and down along the road, we turned it down and immediately I crashed.

When I woke up, I was in the driveway of my house. Nash had gotten out of the car and came over to my side, he had opened the door and started making a vine of him mimicking my sleep face. Apparently I sleep with my mouth open, and look very odd. I woke up after the 6 seconds was over. He helped me get out of the car because I was tired and my stomach has been hurting lately. He helped me carry my bags to the door and inside the house were we were met by my father.

He reached out his hand to shake Nash's. "How's it doing son?" he asked with his fake southern accent, and terrible grammar.

"It's a-doing pretty good," Nash replied, mocking my father. My Dad spoke the language of sarcasm, so it didn't bother him. Nash and my Dad got along well and enjoyed joking around with each other, but Nash still knew his boundaries, and knew what would happen to him if he crossed them.

As soon as all my bags were inside, Nash got back in his car to pull in the driveway of his own house. I walked into the kitchen were my whole family was sitting preparing meals. I had already said hello to my dad, but when I walked in all I saw was my mom staring at my head. I looked down at my hands, "Mom," I choked out. "Stop." I immediately walked out of that room. I didn't want to see her. She was my own mother and looked at me like I was some type of foreign object. No, I hate her. She cant do that to me. I ran into my room and splashed water on my face. I unpacked my bags into some drawers for the week. The week... that's too long in this household.

When I finished I sat on my bed reading tweets, and watching vines. Until I heard a knock on the door, and it creak open. My mother walked through the door. She obviously had been crying.

"Mom, don't. Just..." I said turning away.

"No, Liv, I'm sorry. I just wasn't ready. You're my baby girl, and to see you for the first time like this-"

"Like what? Like what mom? What do you see me as? Because as a mother, all you should see me as, is your daughter. You're supposed to see the inside of me, not the outside," I yelled at her.

"That's exactly what I see. When I look at you I see how sick you are. I'm your mother, there's nothing I can do but worry and wish I could do something, but I can't. And I have to live with myself everyday knowing that I can't help you. I can't do anything for you. I'm your mother, I should be able to do everything for you, but I can't. I feel helpless," she said back, tears starting to fall.

I looked at my hands as I realized how tired I was. It had only been a couple of months and I was extremely exhausted. All my energy was being sucked out of me. Bits and pieces of me were breaking off. I realized how scared I was. I leaned over and grabbed her. I squeezed her as tight as I could, and she squeezed me back. I held onto her, not wanting to let go, and crying into her shoulder.

"Mom, I'm scared. I'm scared..." I kept repeating into her shoulder.