Something to Remind You

The sun was beginning to rise outside. The orange sun was rising into a sky filled with purple and pink clouds. The birds were chirping softly at times and louder at others. Smoke from the cigarette in my mouth filled the air as it filled my lungs.

I took one more deep drag off my cigarette and then tossed it to the concrete. I could see my breath as I breathed out; fall was slowly turning into winter. I wrapped the blanket a little tighter around my frail body.

I looked at the trees. They were slowly dying as the weather got cooler every week. I coughed and winced as I felt the pain in my ribs, the ribs that were now visible. I sighed as I looked at my phone and noticed the time.

It was time.

*&*&*

After showering, I dressed in the first set of clothes I found that fit me in the slightest bit. I shoved my feet into my battered combat boots. I grabbed my keys and walked out to my car. I got in and started the drive to place I hated the most, the hospital. I got there in record timing and shut my car off.

I walked into the building, the wind almost knocking me over. I was that thin. I smiled slightly at the nurses I had come to know on a first name basis as I was here every week. Every Friday I was here.
I checked in and then sat down as I waited for my name to be called. I caught the stares of disgust and sympathy; the looks I absolutely despised. The disgust I could handle to a point, but the sympathy? I hated it.

“Mommy, why is that girl so skinny and icky looking?” I heard the little girl in front of me not so quietly ask her mother. The mom shushed her and said,

“Sweetie, it’s not nice to point things out like that. She’s sick.” I sighed and grabbed the nearest magazine, Rolling Stone. I grinned slightly. I began to thumb through it when a page caught my attention.

‘Attention song writers, we have a new contest! Enter with a song that is written entirely by you. If your song is chosen, you will get the pleasure of recording with Of Mice and Men’s Austin Carlile. Entries being accepted until October 31. Check out our webpage for more details!’

I ripped the page out of the magazine and pocketed it. This could be my last chance to make a lasting impression on the world.

“Monroe James? We’re ready for you,” Hanna, my favorite nurse, broke me out of my thoughts. I stood slowly and walked to the blonde as she led me back into the room that hopefully held my cure.
I sat in the chair and began the process of chemotherapy alone. What I wouldn’t give to have at least one person here with me. Apparently when you got cancer though, everyone seemed to run away and avoid you. I sighed as I tried to push the negative thoughts out of my mind. I would fight this and win. I wouldn’t be the victim anymore.

*&*&*

After a shitty session of chemo, I made it back to my apartment. I grabbed my songbook and began to look through the multiple songs I had written over the course of my life. I decided to just write a new one. I began thinking of all the shitty things that had happened to me in the 23 years I have been alive. I never met my father. He walked out on my mother when she became pregnant at 18.

Said mother despised me as I apparently ruined her life and drove away the man that was her one true love. I snorted at that. At least she clothed and fed me. I could have had it a lot worse than a mother who was strict and never showed emotion. I closed my eyes.

“So this is it, I say goodbye,” I sang quietly. That’s it; I would write about the disease that was slowly and viciously attacking me.