Part One

I sit here, staring at my hands. I’m staring at my hands because they just happen to be in my line of sight. I sit here, staring at my hands and I see five, kind of short fingers on each of my hands. Those fingers are curved to form a top of a circle. I outstretch my short fingers and they start to shake. They move back and forth, ever so slightly. They repeat their motions until the shaking frustrates me so much I have to make a fist.

I think back to my high school years. I was anxiety filled, depressed, and an extrovert. I wanted to do everything, but always to scared to. The feeling of wanting to sing a solo in the choir concert, or talk to everyone I had something to say to, but I wouldn’t. To me however, it felt as though I couldn’t.

I remember shaking a lot in high school. Episodes of my anxiety would often leave me shaky. It would make my muscles feel like all the strength they once possessed, was suddenly drained. I hated that. Just like I hate it now. I hate the feeling of one of my few advantages against the harms of the world getting taken away from me ever so suddenly.

I had finally changed. I had finally let go of everything that was weighing me down. Cancer does that to you.

I remember sitting in the doctor's office waiting for my test results. It was cold in the room they put me in. My mom fidgeted with her hands every five seconds. She kept repeating “The tests were just a precaution, honey. Everythings going to be fine.”

I wouldn’t look her in the face. I just blankly stared at the ground before me. It was white, with little specks of green and blue scattering each tile. The thoughts that roamed through my head were; “Green speck, blue speck, green speck, green speck again, that one looks like the moon.” My eyes aimlessly followed the specks, slowly, looking at them careful enough to recreate each one. I was looking at a blue speck when a loud screech broke my concentration.

It was the door opening. The doctor walked in with an emotionless look on his face. As my head lifted, he looked at me, but quickly looked to my mother. “I’m sorry, but the test revealed…” Thats all I really needed to hear. I knew what he was going to say after that. I went back to looking at the floor, but thoughts kept interrupting my focus. Not so much thoughts, but one thought, over and over and over again.

“If I die… my life would be pathetic and worthless.”

Those ten words would replay through my mind… It was something I could not control. Slowly each word would be articulated in depths of my soul. Over the time of the doctor explaining, in depth, all the explanations associated with telling someone they have cancer, the sentence would break apart into sections. “Pathetic” would echo against my skull until it was so exhausted, I would move on to “worthless”, then “If I die”, and “If I die” turned into “I’m going to die.” Which had me conclude my deep thoughts into ringing the phrase “my life”. I didn’t want “my life” to end like it would. I needed to finally let go of all the baggage weighing me down. I could no longer let my extreme, impractical fears move me through my life like I was their puppet. With the little time I thought I had left, I had to do something with it, and my anxiety and my depression was going to hold me back. So as the doctor was continuing his cancer speech I looked up, and started to listen.

***

Ever since then I tried to embrace the extrovert I always was. Talking to people, doing things. I focused on the things that would give me joy, things that would make people say at the funeral I thought was short to come; “She had a short life, but she was always so confident and happy.” And honestly, my epiphany helped me achieve that goal. Well, until now.

Suddenly all of my anxieties that were buried away in the attic of my head came spilling out. Was he using me the whole time? Did he ever care about me? I was so stupid. I was so stupid to think anyone would have any interest in this broken piece of crap they call Faith.

My chest started to tighten as each memory I once felt were precious moments, replayed through my head like scenes from a horror movie. One after the other, then back to the one, and back to the other. My muscles continue to weaken. I’m gasping for air to gain some comfort. However no comfort is gained by the air that does nothing but leave me gasping once again.

I finally start to relax as I focus on my breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, hold it, exhale. As a form of calamity sets in I started to think back to what happened.