Status: In progress.

50 Percent Chance

Nothing matters, I realize. Not all of the studying I've done. Not all of the work and time I've put into having a successful future. You can't have a successful future if you're six feet under the ground. Suddenly and without warning hot, angry tears fill my eyes and spill over. I grit my teeth and put my head in between my knees.

This is not how my life was supposed to go. I sob into my arms; I can't help it, I'm filled with so much grief and hurt I can no longer keep it in. I hate cancer so much. I hate leukemia. I hate needles and chemotherapy and throwing up. I'm thankful my mom is at work, patching things up and re-establishing herself there, because I really don't want her to see me like this. But I can't be strong forever.

I grip my chest where my heart is and just wish this pain would go away. What I would give to go back to only worrying about history tests and Prom. I let out a sad, pathetic laugh when I realize that this is the first time I've thought about Prom in several days.