terminal; frerard

a diagnosis worth killing for

franks pov**

chemo therapy.

it fuxking sucks thats for sure. the only treatment that could possibly help me makes me feel like im dying.

on the days i have it, i wish i would just die instead. it would be better.

not just the cancer eats me away, many
other things come into factor. like when. when when when.

its not like i have anyone to take care of me. when your mom dies, it takes away your dad too. maybe not in a dying way. but it stripped away his soul like bark on a tree thats been hit with lighting one too many times. it sucks. love sucks. it broke my dad. it will break everyone. my dad turned to alcohol, he broke stuff a lot. i dont remember much, i try to only remember happy things. but nightmares still bring me his memory back to me. i love my dad, you dont just stop loving your dad. but i dont miss him, i miss the old him. i miss the old mom. i miss the memories of parades. i dont miss him as a person and i never will. if anything, i miss the idea of him.

i sit on my back porch. the air is chilly but there is no wind. bear is laying somewhere in the house all alone, probably wondering if in okay. bear seems to know when i have chemo, he's always extra sweet on those days and less in my face about going places.. but he is a dog. and he does demand my attention. i fear the day where ill be forced to give him up. i fear the day where bear will wait by the door for hours on end waiting for me to get home while im at the hospital and people are trying to revive me. it makes my heart hurt to picture no one loving him like i love him. i try and remind myself of death, but i cant prepare bear. i try accepting it, but i also let it ruin my thoughts.

i stare into the stars and the obis of the sky and universe above me. i wish i wasnt so fuxking alone. in reality, we all are. we can have lovers and friends and social lives but when you stare into the night sky at 2AM wondering what the meaning of life is, well, you realize how alone we all truly are.

i grip the glass of tea in my hand. it burns a bit. its weird how such a minor pain makes you forget for just a split second. i close my eyes and let the world bury me, squeeze the tea, let it burn... feel my lungs struggle for air.

gerard mother fricking way.

he doesnt get it. he can just smoke... smoke away his life. buy packs. let himself be addicted and i bet he doesnt even think of the consequences. that i will die and ive never even picked up a cigarette, but the lucky bastxrd gerard way will be able to live his entire life cancer free. i wish i could get his lungs to struggle like mine. maybe he'd quit. not that i should wrap myself up in his business. its his addiction. his poison.

i look at the almonds sitting next to me. cure cancer with a nut. my lungs are trying to destroy themselves. a nut doesnt make a difference.

the thought of it makes me mad. how im supposed to eat almonds and go to chemo and struggle to breathe when i dont even want to be here.

i stand up.

i grab the bag of almonds and throw them on the ground. i pick my foot up and crash it down on the food over and over and over. i get dizzy from the physical strain of stomping so i sit back down.

i just angrily stomped almonds for their cancer curing properties and im dizzy from it. sometimes, i wonder what cancer has made of me.

i laugh a bit. the laugh is choked and comes out dead. it echoes into the night before that choked laugh turns into a choked sob. my air is taken from me again. i try and calm myself down just enough to focus on breathing. it feels like my lungs are filled with lead. sharp, cutting, terrible bricks of lead. every intake of air feels like a pang to the chest, as if knifes are cutting their way in and out of my body. the more air that gets into me though, the less pain there is. i stabilize my breathing just enough to stand up. i open the door to get back inside and another coughing fit begins.
bear sees me coughing and immediately gets to my side.
i run to the bathroom and lay on the ground. i do this because if youve ever coughed so hard you puke, you know you dont want to projectile vomit anywhere where you have to clean it up.
i try not to cry but the tears come anyway. they force their way out of my eyes and onto my cheeks and eventually fall to the floor. it hurts to cry so deeply, when every part of your body means it. like some deep hole of absolute nothingness ive been thrown into. that cancer has thrown me into. my body aches and convulses. my head pounds like my brain is trying to escape. every wall every seems to come crashing down on me. bear just lays next to me, and watches it happen.