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November 8
As Friday comes around and I start hoping for Shane to ask me out again, I start getting kind of annoyed with everything. It might be because of my health because the doctor said I might feel a few changes in my mood and feelings. Despite that, I can't help but get a bit frustrated with Shane too.
"Why can't he just talk to me?" I grumble to myself, punching my pillow into a more comfortable blob. "Yes, okay, he can't text or call, but will it kill him to just send me a one-sided email or something and then delete it? Stupid, stupid, stupid ..."
Grumbling to myself and complaining about everything, I fall asleep at night and wake up Friday morning, feeling better than I was last night.
Shit, diabetes sucks balls.
"I hate this cereal," I tell Mom, practically growling at my box of whole-wheat cereal mom hands me. "I hate the taste of it. I hate the look of it. I hate everything about it."
"You haven't been taking your insulin shots," Mom comments, eyeing me closely. She probably notices my eyebags and automatically attributes my grumpiness to my illness. "Really, Taylor. You need to step up and take care of yourself unless you want me to stab you with a needle in your stomach thrice every day."
I wince and squirm back. "I'm fine, really," I try to convince her. "And I'm taking insulin just fine, thank you."
Mom sighs. "You heard what the doctor said. You need to inject it into your stomach for a quick effect. And you need it thrice a day."
"I can handle it, Mom," I say, jumping off my chair and reaching for my bag. I know she's right about what she's saying but I'm not a big fan of needles. Isn't it enough that I'm stabbing my arm with a needle once every morning before going to school? It lasts me a few hours of normalcy before I start feeling the weight of diabetes again. Besides, if I've been holding on fine till now, I might be able to last a few more months.
"You're not taking this seriously enough, Taylor," Mom calls after me.
"I learned from the best," I respond sarcastically, walking out of the house and slamming the door behind me.
As harsh as it may sound, it's not entirely a lie. Mom and Dad are the masters of minimizing a problem. They minimized Carter's depression so that we didn't even know it existed until it was too late. With regard to moving on, they were in complete and utter denial about the effect Carter's death had on them. Even now, they're gladly minimizing the relationship problems they have.
They have no right to be telling me I should take diabetes more seriously.
I sit through my classes, feeling more tired than usual and wishing I was in bed. When Riley nudges me, I grimace at her and shake her off. Racheal doesn't get a response from me either and her childishness upsets me way too much. It's only after I leave the bathroom for the fourth time in two hours that I realize I missed my insulin injection in the morning.
"Just great, Taylor," I mumble to myself. "So fucking great."
I hate it. I really do. I hate being dependent on a stupid injection and some clear liquid to function during the day. I hate the individualized diet plan the doctor suggested with collaboration with the nutritionist. I hate that my mom, who spent months pretending I don't exist, suddenly wants to be best friends with me and thinks she knows what's best for me.
"Hey?"
"I hate you," I say without looking up to see who's addressing me.
He laughs, tugging at the strap of my bag as it slides down my arm and I snatch it back up.
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Seeing Shane Gray ✓
General Fiction| a true story about a boy who hides his pain behind his smile and a girl determined to see it | - FREE story with paid Exclusive Chapters and Writer Reveals - Twice Featured - Taylor Ming is trying to cope with the aftermath of her twin brother's...
