Posts by Photography

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  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    The morning started as it usually did. Wake up to the sound of a screaming alarm; roll off the side of the bed, groaning; scramble into the bathroom before Justin can; use all my little feminine products to freshen up; dress in a pair of baggy jeans, combat boots, and a gray tee with a hoodie; head downstairs to pick at a huge meal my mother had made for me. That morning, the only difference was that it was Saturday- Sunday, maybe? -and I didn't have to worry about rushing out the door for school. In fact, I necessarily didn't have to wake up at all, but after developing pancreatic cancer, my mother best decided it was right for me to, I don't know, stay on an active schedule, I suppose? Which was fair; she was just trying to be a helpful, protective mother.


    However, this morning in particular was not just different from the lack of attendance to the institute, but also because of an intriguing new neighbor. "You know," Mom started as I begun picking at my eggs, overcooked and sloppily tossed onto my plate, "there's a new girl that just moved in a few houses down." I can't say I was truly listening, so I just flipped my dark hair over my shoulder and gave a quaint, "Uh huh". Mom shuffled over and spattered some bacon on my plate before backing away. I could feel her eyes blazing into my soul. "Maybe you should go next door and greet her? I could bake some cookies, you two could chat-"


    I grit my teeth and interrupted quickly. "Mom, I know you're trying to get used to my sexuality, but you don't have to turn everything into a girly mess. Sure, I'll go over and talk, but, please, lose the damned cookies and set your mind straight. I'm done," I added, and tossed my napkin onto my plate and scooted away, a scowl on my face. As mom sighed and cleaned up the bits of food I didn't eat, I hurried up to my room and sprawled onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. I turned my gaze to the measly book resting on my shelf. And I Shall Reign, read the cover. It was a book, obviously about cancer and the fight and struggle to escape it, that I had read and reread.


    It was my life. I read it daily, never ceasing to stop scanning over the contents. After a while, my life got plain. Disappointing. Boring. I hated it. I wanted something...Intriguing. Better. And reading And I Shall Reign drained out the bland taste of my life on my tongue, replacing it with the sweet sensation of a reality I could escape to to deny my own. After about an hour of just reading the back cover over and over, I heard Mom's shrill call downstairs, "Ava? Ava, please, come down. The neighbors just arrived." Sighing, I threw my legs off the side of the bed and jumped down, hurrying down the steps to meet her in the kitchen.


    I didn't exactly take after my mother, with her long, golden ringlets that shaped her heart-framed face. Her hazel eyes always bored into my brown ones, forcing me to realize how gorgeous she was in the face frame. Tall and lean with a slender build though fit, she was, while I was nothing but a boobless twig after years and years of weight loss. After a while, my skill began to yellow from jaundice of pancreatic cancer, while hers' remained fair. All of my eccentric, darker features arrived from my father, who divorced my mother twelve years ago and took off into the world.


    "Head on over, I'll catch up with-" I shook my head, brushing past her. "No, I'll go on my own. I don't need you telling them I'm a lesbian and embarrassing me in front of her. I'd like some friends, you know!" I spat, and slammed the door behind me. Running a sweaty palm down my face as I slid outside, I turned to the direction of the tall moving truck. Surely enough, there was a pretty, short-haired girl that looked positively definite of cancer. Though she was pretty, I had a feeling she'd rather not be disturbed. I pondered going over there or not, talking to her or standing there awkwardly. After a while I was sure her father had noticed me and he wanted me to attend.


    Inhaling a sharp breath, I hurried over. Even the short run halfway down the road tired me, as my body had lost all fitness to run. I tried to catch my breath as I slowed, an aching forming in my lower back. Cringing, I staggered forward, nearly toppling over before I caught myself and threw over to them. "Hi," I uttered as loud as my quiet voice could push as I neared. When I was sure they couldn't hear, I took a slight step closer and announced, "Hey, um...You're the...uh, Blakes, right? Um, I'm Avalon...Avalon Banks. We live just down the road over-" I gestured toward my pretty house quite duplicated to theirs' -"there," I finished, and turned back to them.


    Expecting no sure comment.

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    Some families get over their child/ren's cancer faster than others, or they accept it differently. For example, as I stood before this peculiar, though prettily decorated female and her family, I could pick out what made her family so separated from my own. After I, for one, was diagnosed, my mother started smoking. She smoked while pregnant with me, as well as when she was pregnant with my brother, Justin, three years before my own self. And then she stopped. And then I got cancer and Justin's girlfriend broke up with him, the one he'd been dating for four years, and so she bought a large pack of Camel cigarettes and smoked them until her lungs were ill and rotten, just like my pancreas. Then the drinking started and she was addicted to go out late at night and dragging home naked strangers that, unfortunately, stayed for days or even weeks before Mom decided to throw them out.


    That was her way to handle grief. Through a pain that can drive others away before more return. Sometimes, tucked up in my bed, squirming under the weight of the sheets as they itched against my yellowed skin, I could hear them, Justin and my mother, their voices shrill and cracking as they screamed late at night, their voices swaying through the vents and the crevices of my door. It was often about me, that my cancer was my mother's fault, or even more occasionally, the men dancing naked into our household. Over a long streak of late night shouting, my brain, heart, and ears adjusted to the noise and I could finally sleep, stirring nonetheless.


    This girl Savannah...Her family did not handle the grief or sorrows of cancers as strangely. In fact, no alcohol, drugs, or abuse was involved. As I stood, disoriented in their driveway, a stranger to them and as they were strangers to me, her father laughed merrily like Santa would in the movies- those fake movies hiding lies and secrets. It echoed off the walls of the houses, and I felt like his booming laugh could be and most likely was the cause of thunder. His large, massive body did not fit his kitty attitude. He acted like everything was fine. But it wasn't. To anybody. Not even him and his peppy family. Nothing was okay. And I mean nothing.


    "Savannah! You have a guest!" He called, though she was standing only yards away. With one stride of his long, bulging legs rippling with odd muscles, he approached me and extended his hand. I genuinely took and shook his sweaty, sausage-finger hand and stared expectantly at Savannah. Her short hair was most likely naturally cut like that, unless she had chemo that inflicted her when in treatment. Though I doubted it. Anyway, it looked nice, all short and cute like that. Reminded me of my mom's hair when she- Oh God! No, Avalon, I told myself, no. Don't get all creepy thinking of who she reminds you of. I finally was swept over to the girl and semi-teary-eyed mother, who was tall and pretty. I couldn't help but think she looked like the older, feminine side of my brother. A smile smile crept up my lips and I had to choke back a giggle. "Oh! Hello dear! Yes, well...thank you for welcoming us! My name's Carly and I see you've already met my husband; and that's my daughter, Savannah!"


    The family of three was strong and permanent, like Sharpie on stationary. Even when you erase and manage to tear it apart, it's still there, that dark ink. I smiled simply at the unusual family. They all stood together, compacted like newspapers in the bicycle basket. Giving a slight wave, I tried to introduce myself before the other neighbors, like Shane, Katherine, or Wendell and their families got there. Eventually they would. And I'd have to run like hell to avoid them.


    Katherine and I had been best friend's a couple of months back. We'd practically grown up together; same city, same neighborhood, same school, same life. Or it was for a while. We'd wander off into the wood and discover interesting secrets, finding ourselves prancing into magical doors and playing with secret fairies in third grade. By fifth grade, we were eager to escape to the age of grown ups, where everything would be perfect. Two years later, we were gushing over the hottest boys. And with one dreadful moment, everything changed; her best friend got cancer. The day I was thrust into the hospital, she called my unanswering mother 59 times before she just gave up and gave in to the call, answering and ordering Katherine's family to come down.


    After that, we kind of grew apart. Our entire friendship seemed to just be her asking me, "Are you okay?" and me answering, "Yep, I'm fine," even though I knew it was lies. Then she and this boy, Vince, got intimate in a relationship and she tossed me aside. As for Shane, her next door neighbor, well...Go ahead and call him the biggest douche. Wendell was part of a semi-genius, extremely wealthy family that sent him to a private academy and he got straight A's or whatever, all that shit. A perfectionist.


    Surely I wanted Savannah to have a nice life and meet everyone, but I didn't want to let her go and have no friends, either. Sighing, I simply jumped back into so-not-depressed mode and flipped my hair, teeth escaping as I said, "I'm Avalon. Avalon Banks. I live right-" I turned and gestured to my house, directly across the street and then down two, the baby blue one with the navy roof "-there." I turned back and twirled some hair on a slender finger. "So, it's nice to have you guys here. Thought this pretty house was going to a.) get filled with some smartass who I hated or b.) stay abandoned. I never even recognized option c.) a nice, sweet family that doesn't ignore the presence of everyone and threaten the world will end." I shook my head and simply tried to start over. "Sorry, I ramble. It's so nice to meet you Carly, Savannah, Mr. Savannah's Dad."


    I dipped my head graciously and then heard a door pop open down the road. Glancing up, I saw a sleek body with raven black hair draping down perfectly rounded shoulders slide out of her house and glance over towards this one, beckoning for some others to follow. Her silhouette hesitated as it saw me and she shouted some inaudibly before hurrying down the steps. Probably, "FUCK! AVALON'S THERE! SHOULD WE GET THE VAN AND DRIVE SLOW CIRCLES AROUND THE HOUSE FOR A WHILE UNTIL SHE GOES AWAY?"


    "Well, I don't want to keep you from meeting anyone in particular. Appears Katherine's coming over now. Sorry I didn't bring any cookies or anything, I'm not that special!" I laughed and spun around on my heel. "Hope we can keep in touch, you Fun Little Family!" And before I could embarrass myself and my crappy pancreas anymore, I darted down their driveway and onto the street.

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [ Sure, sounds fair. ]


    As you get older with cancer, you start to lose track of time. Of course, it could be the chemo or radiation of treatment, etc. Maybe that just screws up with the mental enigmas of the little roots of the brain. Then the sensation of time is a useless piece of the puzzle, or just the moon compared to the sun- cancer. Eventually, time slips away. In pain, it goes by slowly, dragging you forth in utter misery. In fun, it goes by swiftly, and you have no time to collect memories. Sometimes, time is devoured by your conscience and you lose sense of what you have done. Over the years, it happens to mostly all cancer patients. Or not. Maybe just ordinarily healthy human beings.


    So time fades. It fades away to nothingness and you lose all track of it. You could sit on your bed in utter silence, only the sound of a clock ticking, for five minutes and believe it had been an hour. Three hours. A day. The rain pours down and the jet stream slows the Earth. Slowly does the day pass. The sun shine brightly, relieving jet streams. The Earth rotates swifter.


    And so time changes dramatically, whether we endure or not. Especially with such hated diseases as cancer. There's no control of time. Everyone knows that. You are born, you live, you age, you die. And the cycle starts again with those you borne. This is why cancer patients dream so much of death. Because time is different for them and they understand it better. Like me. And it made me wonder...Does Savannah share my beliefs with this thought? Do all cancer patients feel as though time is demanding to be noticed and forcing us to live it? Or is it just a f*cked up image in my mind? Savannah...Savannah? Oh, oh right! That new neighbor.


    And then the aspects of time settled in my head as I groggily awoken, wondering if the hazy events of yesterday were a dream or not. No alarm clock buzzed me awake, which recognized the day as itself as a Sunday morning, a day where I could hit the imaginary snooze button of life and relax. The one day of the week I did not suffer of fatigue and exasperation. Yesterday was a Saturday then, which was relieving, as the threat of sprawling out in those hot chairs in my private academy for the ill and cancer-stricken people and cancer-survivors, etc. No listening to lectures of how to survive or anything, just me and my bed snuggled up together to enjoy the dreamy Sunday.


    At about 8:00 am., I could not longer relax and decided to get active. Bodies tend to adapt quickly to situations. Such as mine to time and waking up early in the dawns' age. Yawning, I stretched my arms and slid my legs off the side of the bed, then hobbled toward the bathroom. But before I could reach for the knob the hallway tilted to the side and a flurry of hazy speckles dotted my eyes. I reached for something to grab as a throbbing pain pounded my head. I gasped in shrill terror as I staggered backwards, entire body numb. Fluid came rushing up my chest and before I could react, I blew chunks against the stairs and slid, collapsing and then tumbling down the steps to the bottom and into the living room. Two doors came popping open and a hungover Mom shrieked, "AVALON? WHA CHU DOIN' DOWN THERE?" and Justin murmured, "Mom, go back to sleep, I'll deal with it," and then a door opening and closing again.


    Feet pounded down the steps and helped me up. "Upsy daisy," he whispered, and groped my arm. Justin whispered to me words unintelligible as we headed up the stairs. Every step was a throbbing pain in my head and stomach, and I was vomiting again, all across his socks, but he heeded no attention to it, just helped me to the stairs to the point where I was crawling. A while passed before I settled down and Justin helped me into the bathroom, turned on the shower knobby thingy, and told me to bathe. Then he clicked the door shut behind me and told to call if I needed help. After vomiting in the toilet a couple more times, I felt relieved and wobbled into the shower.


    At about 9:45 am., I was back and sprawled out across my bed, Justin sitting on the edge beside me as we searched through an old picture book. "Remember that?" I laughed, nodding lazily toward an image of the two of us. He was wearing an adorable puppy costume for Halloween and I was on his shoulders, sticking out my tongue and poking his nose, wearing a kitten costume. Our cheekbones high, smiles wide, we were on top of the world, cancer free. "God, we were so cute!" Justin snickered and finally closed the book. He pecked my forehead, brushing my hair out of my face. "You should get out, visit the neighbors or something. It sucks being cramped inside on a hot day, especially with your symptoms, mmkay?" I nodded, hugged him briefly, and then he left.


    After dressing into a pair of black yoga pants, a white tank top, and a hoodie, for I was usually extremely cold, I slid into some sandals and hurried outside. Glimpsing around outside, I spotted Savannah's house and hurried over. It was pretty, actually, though a near duplicate to my own house. Sighing, I stood shakily before the door, all signs of cancer gone. It happened, occasionally, vomiting, nausea, dizziness. Then a cold, quick shower, resting, and I felt better. Cancer. It works in weird ways, eh? Smirking to myself, I rung the doorbell and rocked on my heels, expecting an answer this time.

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] Light. No artificial light...Just sunlight. That's what the world used to be. No technology to make this artificial light; and a hell of a lack of intelligence. What had it been like, not being able see very well in the dark, except by lanterns and bonfires? Maybe even light, chimney fires? Just sunlight. It was all they had. And now, we have generated electricity, powerful beacons, solar panels; anything to get technology running. As much as I loved being indoors, thumbs pounding the controller of a video game and staying tucked down in bed and reading and watching Friends, was just as much as I loved standing beneath the rays of the source of all life.


    There was no denying that the true warmth felt marvelous against my worn skin as I stood before the door, soaking in the rays, but there was also admitting that it was uncomfortable and scratchy. I tugged at my hoodie's sleeves, suddenly feeling unbearably hot. Well, who could deny that down here in the South, there was no escaping the heat? Though my jaundice and awful weight loss and lack of appetite; it forced me into self-awareness of my body, my skin, my hair.


    The hoodie was like an escape from stalking, lurking eyes. When Katherine or Shane or Wendell cast glimpses upon me, they would not think, Damn, she's so skinny! or Ew, what's up with her skin? or prey on my like that. They'd see that I was comfortably locked up in a grey creation with a hood over my wild hair, hands covered inside my pockets, draping over my butt in the back to hide its' lack of size. Sure. I wore yoga pants, but so what. It's not like they were the taught, flesh-eating ones. Simply a stretchy black fabric that at least made my curves stand out. Okay, maybe not curves. Just my half-starved self.


    I didn't realize how long I'd been "patiently" standing there waiting until my doorbell ring finally must've made it to the ears of the family. The door flung open and there, before me, was the wondrous Carly Blake. Her eyes lit up with absolute joy when she spied me and she appeared to be overwhelmed with joy. Wow, I wonder if she treats Savannah like this, I thought to myself, and simply shook my head and forced a taught lipped smile onto my face. It pleased her anyway. "Oh, hello! So nice to see you again!" she exclaimed ecstatically. I tilted my head and widened my smile a bit more before uttering a quick, "You too, Carly," and then hopped right back into conversation. "If you're looking for Savannah she's out back. I'm sure she'll be more then happy to see you!" I nodded, and she pulled the door back, allowing it to drift before I could slide inside.


    Their house was bigger on the outside than it was on the outside, just like ours'. One of the mysteries of life, illusions. Once I set foot in the entry hall, the door shut behind me. Carly walked before me and I followed her "out back". They had a big(gish) backyard, fenced in in a square formation by the tall, white spokes that they called "guards". Just fences, really. There was a gate toward the back leading to the wood. Just like ours'. Sure enough, there was Savannah, just sitting there.


    Carly watched me for a second as I passed through the slider before disappearing back into the house. I took this time to glimpse at the short-haired girl. The sunlight passed down at the directly exact angle that caused a miraculous aura to glow in her radiant presence. It was orange and yellow, dappled with purple as the light of the horizontal sun cast itself upon her. She couldn't look any more beautiful, I told myself silently. She looked at peace, and at first I pondered if she knew I was there or not. "Hi," I then blurted, and scooted up next to her. The slider had led onto a porch, which led to a small set of four steps, which led to the yard.


    I looked at her quickly before plopping down, smiling and squinting against the harsh glow of the sun. "Remember me? I'm from yesterday, one of those freaks that bothered to welcome you. Avalon, or Ava if you would," I added, and flipped my wild hair against my back, away from my eyes. "Sorry if I'm interrupting. Chaotic morning, and I needed someone to talk to."


    And then I just gently inhaled her beauty.

  • ѕeт тнe world on ғιre || ѕιgn-υpѕ


    Estelle •• Leanne •• Henries


    [img width=382 height=510]http://24.media.tumblr.com/695…gnb2Sp431qf0hado1_500.jpg[/img]


    Me, Myself, & I.


    Nickname:
    "Often it is Tessy, though I absolutely hate that nickname. Use your own creativity."


    Age:
    "According to my birth, apparently I am sixteen years of age and some odd amount of hours, seconds, etc. Though I'd rather avoid those specific details."


    Gender:
    "Feminine. No rude comment; it was a question. An honest question."


    Hair Color:
    "A natural blonde, actually. I bet you thought I'd have dark do. Estelle seems to be some of a mysterious name, or of sorts. However, I have natural highlights and lowlights that are a gentle shade of brown."


    Eye Color:
    "Silvery grey. Which means my eyes are extremely keen, therefore I observe."


    Body Type:
    "Yes, I am as I appear; petite with a lanky frame and skinny limbs, though strong(ish) legs. Tan(nish), as well, though my tan tends to fade often. My bosom is not and never will be that big, and I'm fine with that. Being in the B-Cup does not bother me at all."


    Personality:
    "Perhaps you will enjoy what I am. Though, I'm sincere I am wrong, as it is doubtful to understand who I am and how I act. It's simply hard to understand. So listen close, and imagine it."
    Estelle. I wish I could just call her an ordinary girl and be done with this, though, surely I can't, for a.) damn, she's not normal at all, and b.) that would be unfair to all reading, eh? So, Estelle. Estelle. That should be enough to describe someone. Their name. But it's not. It never is enough. Nothing is ever enough, is it?
    Apologies, apologies. Let me explain Estelle to you a bit better for an achievement of understanding.
    I'm sure you've deciphered that- well, lucidly -she's anything but idiotic. Estelle is simply intelligent, with a mind always chugging with non-stop gears. All though she is bright and appears to keep a well-met reputation, like anyone, she struggles, mainly with the boring subject of history. And keeping that reputation straight.
    Yes, she's smart. She studies. She tries her best and positively does not lack effort. Though Estelle is not a bland old academic freak that worries more about her grades than living life. In all honesty, reader, she loves to party. Drinking, dancing, meeting others. However, her persona and aura never seem to reel in many people. Though like Estelle cares. Matter of factually, nothing bothers her. She feels free and doesn't hold back being the peculiar, long-word-using female she is. She is not a reserving person. She is not shy- average on the scale of modesty; though she can be quiet. Occasionally.
    For Estelle, starting a conversation can be a difficult challenge. Though jumping into one sets as no particular problem to her. She can leisurely join a conversation and talk and nod and laugh and sniff and ask why at all the right times. A possible strength, really, to be able to just know when to ramble like an idiot or shut her mouth like a wise ass.
    Now, editing the partying without exactly editing it all, she likes breaking rules. She likes bending them. But she likes being smart; I mean, not every mini-genius has to be serious all the time, right? A stereotype, if you will.
    Moving on from that topic, Estelle can be very defendant/defiant. When someone judges her or any of the beings she knows, her instinct gets the best of her and she does whatever it takes to win the argument of the falseness or truth behind the statement. She can be very feisty and is not afraid to bite the heads off of anyone who insults herself, or any beings.
    Estelle is a.) not too friendly to strangers and possibly a bit rude, and b.) partially friendly to strangers she accepts or has likes for, or dear friends. Although her blond hair and short stature seemingly make her look all sunny and sweet, well...I advise you to think again. Estelle has a bit of a bite and a clash of claws. Being mean is nothing but a flick of a wrist to her, as is niceness. Estelle manages to even these two things out.
    Envy and jealousy are two words that Estelle bothers not to use. It takes a whole lot of sh*t to get her jealous of anyone or anything, in spite of whatever case it happens to be.
    Okay, to get things moving, let's give a quick list of words and phrases; she's not sympathetic, she'd rather not take sides and can be quite objective, she's a rebel with a flare of girlishness, she likes style, actually, she has a slight temper, can usually stay calm and collected in situations, is not very helpful in solving situations, likes to stay in the background, hates drawing attention.
    Well, hopefully that's enough for you.


    History:


    Test Subject Number:
    "Test Number Eight, which is terrifyingly ironic, as eight has always been my most disliked number of all. The world is a box of mysteries, hm?"


    New Ability:
    "Believably plant life, as I can now control the growth of nature, as well as it's significance in a peculiar manner. In other words, it appears I can control plant life, and anything to do with nature. Another ironic bit of life, as I've never liked the outdoors. Damn, how odd."


    Likes:
    "As all humans, my list of these sort of luxuries and admiration could thoroughly go on forever, no matter what categories and specifics I give. However, since you asked so pleasantly, aren't I obliged to answer?
    ✓ Felines and Canines of all Sort
    ✓ Vocabulary and Long, Fluent Words
    ✓ Learning of Dialect and Lexicon
    ✓ Dictionaries and Thesauruses
    ✓ Writing, Reading, and Other Such Relations
    ✓ Sugar, Cream, and Tea, all on One Platter
    ✓ Sweets and Candy
    ✓ Certain Fruits, as in Strawberries, Pineapples, Citruses, Passion Fruits, Coconuts, etc.
    ✓ The Word, in particular, Suppose
    ✓ Comfy, although Stylish, Clothing
    ✓ Those Sort of Merry, Joyous People or People whose Care for the World is None, and they are Pleased to YOLO
    ✓ Living Life and Having Fun, Getting Through
    ✓ Seclusion and Isolation
    ✓ Perspicacious Males
    ✓ The Indoors; Technology, Electricity, Computer, Video Games
    ✓ Sleeping and Not Having to Wake Up
    ✓ Summers; Swimming
    ✓ Youtube; Music
    ✓ Being Myself"


    Dislikes:
    "Once more, this infinite list would keep you bored for years, so I shall minimize it to an aimless screed.
    ✓ Sluts; Whores; Slores
    ✓ Woman or Females who Believe they are Leaders or Rulers
    ✓ Jocks; Men or Males who Believe that they are Stronger, Better, etc.
    ✓ Sexism and Racism
    ✓ Actual and True Love
    ✓ Giving in Easily
    ✓ Manipulation
    ✓ The Outdoors; Nature
    ✓ The Number Eight
    ✓ Winter; Ice; The Cold
    ✓ Milk; Dairy
    ✓ Potatoes
    ✓ Fast Food; Burger King, McDonald's
    ✓ Her Mom
    ✓ Kentucky
    ✓ Beliebers or Directioners
    ✓ Dubstep or Rap, despite my love for Macklemore
    ✓ The word 'Euthanasia'
    ✓ Aphrodite


    Relationship Status:
    "Single and pure; I'd rather keep it that way. Then again, not even a virgin is pure, really, are they?"


    Crush:
    "What you call a 'crush' is what I'd rather interpret as a 'love interest', as a Crush is a soda, not a 'like, like'. However, if it is a love interest you happen to be referring to, I suppose it will develop."
    [ yes, i'll get whomever her love interest may be as soon as someone interesting and appealing to her persona catches my eye. ]


    Turn-On's:


    Turn-Off's:


    Special Items:


    Allergies:


    Disorders/Medications:
    "Disorders? Consider these disorders, and I advise you keep them in stock; Nightmares, Common Nausea, Weight Loss, Lack of Appetite, Temper, and Insomnia. I'm f*cked up, get used to it. I used to suffer a severe depression, though five years of therapy and meds surely cleared me up. And screwed me up."


    Other:



    About The User


    Activeness:
    Expect an average of 7.5. Yes, I averaged it out. A peculiar person, I am.


    Usual Muse:
    I'd suggest an average of 8.7.


    Plot Ideas?:
    Presumably no yet, but my creativity will (eventually) kick in. I hope.


    Anything Else To Add?:
    Sorry for the quaint use of high vocabulary. Just a bad habit, sorry if it makes me appear extremely fancy. Quite frankly, I'm not fancy at all.
    [ photos arrived [will possibly edit though] as well as additional info. this equals major work in progress. ]




  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] It's amazing how just glimpsing at one's face can intimately change your feeling, your emotion, your heart rate. Like love. That damned thing love that brought my mother to my father, and that drew my father away from my mother and his family. Just seeing someone gives you ecstasy, and then you're tearing each other apart, as well as other lives while you're at it. Possibly Eminem's opinion in "Love the Way You Lie" is a definite truth in our society. Possibly his words are what drove me and my brother away from love. Possibly his words were so truthful, it hurt. And it hurt hard.


    For years, even after treatment and sympathy and school interviews and etc., I'd managed to be the force kept away from love. From life. The empty soul, floating. Floating away without a cause. Which, perhaps, led me to the lucid understanding that I would never a.) get laid, or b.) have cool friends, or c.) be straight, or d.) care I wasn't straight, and e.) be glad I'm not straight.


    Though, staring at Savannah's face, perhaps a trickle of amusement and astonishment crept down my forehead, for her gentle smile, her aura...How reflective to whatever beast she was trapping inside. The pain in her eyes drove me to the need to take her hand and comfort her. Though that would be far too inappropriate right here, right now. An accessory to that thought was the feeling- more like knowing -that somewhere, possibly even nearby, her mother's presence was involved, watching, waiting...Maybe for me to make a move? No. Maybe. I didn't know.


    Savannah fiddled a bit with her tubes before answering. She said, "Hey," softly after my quite, "Hi". Then her body graciously- not -lifted itself with a powerful great. A nudge to my head and I was about to lean forward and help her, when she got herself settled. Savannah added, "Yea. This morning didn't go as planned." I chuckled and ran a hand through my dark, already tangled hair. Blinking a few times, I just bobbed my head along and then turned, leaning back. "Oh, yeah, I know how you feel," I murmured without being too silent. Thoughts pricked my head of vomiting earlier this morning. What if the reason I didn't have a lover was simply for the fact I could vomit while making out? Ugh, nasty.


    Sighing, I placed my arms behind me, palms flat on the wood of the porch, and gazed toward her. She was fondling her tubes again, as if they could give her an answer. "So," I suddenly blurted, trying to get a conversation started again, "I'm pondering whether you're in school or not. Surprisingly, I am. An odd one at that. Silverstein Academy for the Ill. Pathetic, eh?" I smirked and then turned my head to look at the gentle hue of the blue sky. "You?"

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] Twelve years ago. I was...approximately four. And creative. And intelligent. And loved to learn and see the world and observe in different ways. When my dad was still around. His doe eyes, so brilliant and exciting. Like he always had some adventure winding through his head. In a way, Savannah's brilliant eyes reminded me of his- his being my father's. It was a normal afternoon, and my dad was sprawled out on the couch, eyes blank and staring toward the ceiling. I had bounded into the room- I remember it so clearly -and his acknowledgement for my presence was at zero. After a while, I clambered onto his chest and breathed with him, snuggled with him, listened to his heartbeat. Then I managed to fondle the buttons of the TV and turn on SpongeBob. We watched in silence, until an episode of something with a camera came up, and Dad suddenly whispered, "I majored in photography."


    I had looked at him, confused, and prodded at his cheek. "Wha?" I had squealed, excited to know. Stretching, he jerked upwards and scooped me into his arms. "Pretty pictures. I can take pictures." I cooed and pushed his nose. "Show me," I ordered, and he dragged me up the fire escape to the roof, where we sat, gazing out across the other apartments. An apartment. We lived in an apartment up until nine years ago...Dad rested me on his lap and adjusted the camera dangling from his neck. And began to snap photos. Some of me. Some of the sky. Some of the people, the lights, the buildings. I couldn't get enough.


    Soon enough, I got hold of the camera, snapping pictures of him wildly. "Let's develop them," Dad said merrily, and carried me back into the house. So we did. And in the morning, we had tens of good pictures, and tens of bad ones. I giggled and he hugged me and then whispered, "I'm sorry." And I asked, "Why?" And he just blinked back tears and choked, "Because. Keep these, will you?"


    He left that night. Turns out they had divorced one year earlier. And that day, the leave had happened. And I was deserted with my mother, my brother. Isolated from the true soul that got me. Miserable, my heart began to slip away and real emotions were nothing but memories. I faked happiness and joy around my brother and just avoided my drunk a*s mother until she got abusive toward Justin, screaming at him and saying, "Why couldn't you be more like your father?"


    Years later, after developing cancer, I tried to follow in my father's footsteps taking pictures. Then, I didn't know I had pancreatic cancer. The symptoms were there, slightly, as my chubby form was thinning and narrowing, eyes hollowing, bags forming, ribs showing even when I was twelve. The photos I took were awful, truly awful, most likely from my shaky hands. It was one afternoon on the roof of our new house whilst I was photographing, when I suddenly and ever so aimlessly began to projectile vomit. Off the roof. Into the yard. I screamed, and had collapsed in utter pain, sobbing as though my stomach was being demolished. No one heard and I fell asleep on the roof, pain seeping through my bones.


    I thought I had died, but I had woken up in the hospital with results; pancreatic cancer. I hadn't taken a picture since, but that day, with Savannah, light streaming against her pale skin...I wish I had a camera. Wish I could just take a thousand pictures of her. "Yea, I'm heading there tomorrow. Umm..can I ask you something?" she suddenly inquired, snapping me out of my trance. Oh, oh okay. So she'd be in my seminary, lovely! No sarcasm intended. Then I realized her question. She had a question, though I didn't know what. She just wanted to inquire something. A fact, perhaps.


    "Sure. Ask away! But then i need to ask YOU something," I laughed.

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] The way she talked; short responses packed with strong meaning. The way she looked; shy and nervous behind a mask of strength and courage. The way she moved; gracelessly, but enough to make her not like a robot. The similarities between her and my father were driving me absolutely insane. It was like God sent an angel down, an angel of my father to protect me, though, a.) I didn't and don't believe in Gods or Heaven or angels or anything related whatsoever, and b.) it was obvious that angels don't have cancer. Yet still, it appeared to be a pleasing thought to have. As she turned toward me, giggling quietly, I saw a magnificent glow in her perfect doe eyes. A memory of my life flashed before my eyes.


    The two figures sat lifelessly immobile across an orange couch, shredded at the arm rests due to the high vault of animal liking and lack of cat hating. The female's chocolate eyes stared toward the ceiling as though they had all the answers to her infinite line of questions. The male was curled up in a ball beside her, clutching her frail hand. "I want Dad back," Avalon whispered inaudibly to herself. Tears sprung to her eyes and she tried to stifle them, but Justin was a caring brother, even at the age of twelve. "It's okay, Ava, you can cry." And so she did. Sputtering sobs escaped from her choking throat and she tried desperately to catch her breath. "Did he leave because of me...? Did he know I'd get cancer and the pace was too fast?!" Avalon cried, and Justin pulled her into an embrace.


    "No, never," he soothed. "It's Mom's fault, trust me." Avalon took to believing him and regained composure, gathering herself and jerking upwards. Justin gazed up at her from his fetal position, a magnificent glow across his doe-hued eyes. "Mom always says I have eyes just like him," Justin purred, finally sitting upwards leisurely. "She always says I remind her too much of him in appearance, and not enough of him in persona. She hates me, Avalon, she hates me. She loves you."


    Avalon shook her head. "It's because of my cancer. It's sympathetic infatuation that means nothing but mutual fondness." Justin laughed at this and then shook his head in disbelief. "You learn words too quickly," he told her, and she just shrugged her covered shoulders. "When you have no friends, the thesaurus is always calling." And like friends, rather than siblings, Avalon and Justin held likes everything was going to be alright. That everything was okay. But it wasn't. And it never would be.


    Shaking the memory from my languid mind, I focused all heed onto the beautiful Savannah, who fondly asked, "Do you have cancer too?" And at first, to any other, it would seem rude. But I didn't look sick. I looked healthy, despite my yellowed skin and anorexic body form. Which a hoodie and a bit of makeup could cover up cleanly. And then I just swallowed, inhaled, and bobbed my head, lips pursed. My tongue broke through my chapped lips as I licked them, and then I quickly said, "Yeah, yeah, I do." But I didn't want to leave it on that. That sorrow, that pity. I hated pity. So I then added, "It's pancreatic cancer, and quite deadly, actually. The symptoms are gone unnoticed for years for most, myself included, and then when doctors finally find it, it seems to be at it's worst. But I have a feeling that my worst is approaching, that there is no corroboration that I have faced the pitiful fatality pancreatic cancer can cause. I believe I developed the cancer when I was six or seven, but doctors didn't finally discover it until I turned twelve. Or maybe it was thirteen..." I sighed, smiling through my sincerity.


    "It gave me jaundice, the yellowing of skin; vomiting, in which I choose not to eat and I blow chunks anyway; weight loss, both an additional side effect to vomiting, as well as to my thinning pancreas; itching, and I presume it's from the jaundice which also created terrible rashes; abdominal and back pains, for whatever reason; and enlarged lymph notes in my neck." I nodded, signalling I was nearly done with my puerile lexicon. "I despise sympathy and encouragement, and how people say it's always going to be okay, when it's not. When you have cancer, nothing ever is! There's always a chance, whatever cancer you have, that you will die. That somehow, it will eat you."


    A pathetic laugh escaped my petite lips and I just rolled my shoulders back, easing away the tension. "I'm sorry, I got a bit...off topic. it's just nice to let off my tongue, you know? Anyways, time for my question," I added, feeling a bit egocentric. "Have you ever read, And I Will Reign? It's about a girl named Leanne who, of course, develops a brain tumor which leads, off course, to cancer. And she fights it, but in the end...Well, I don't want to spoil."


    I smirked, not exactly waiting for an answer. It was an old book. So I quickly suggested, "Want to go get some lunch? Doubt I'll be able to keep it down, but, hey! It's just in the spirit."

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] "I have lung cancer, diagnosed at seven. My symptoms mostly are coughing up blood,lungs fill up with fluid with a mixture of blood. I can't breath on my own so for the rest of my life I have to breath through tubes. When I was twelve I had half of my right lung removed that was covered with the cancer. After most of my cancer was gone I had only a little left on my lugs that chemo took care of. But there's always the 'return' of my cancer and if it comes back, I'm going to die." It intrigued me, the way she said she could die so confidently. Although there was a slight tremble in her voice while saying it, I understood where the passion of her words came from. Everyone with cancer could die, just like I'd admitted before. It was like a line in And I Shall Reign. It read, Embracing death was not the matter, for I had already checked that one off the list. It was understanding death that had terrified me since the start. You never really do understand death, for it is more of a misconception than anything else.


    What happens after death, anyway, one would find itself wondering. Death is a blessing and a curse. Because death is not the end. It's redundant, because some are lucky enough to know when they are to die, but these civilians are positively the ones struck with terminal diseases, like Savannah. Myself. Terminal illnesses, when diagnosed ahead of time, allow a person to set his or her affairs in order, make relationships right, and say goodbye to loved ones. And then the less pained ones, the freer beings with lovely spirits...Their death is a hazard, like a bump in the road; but it's not a bump at all. Instead, it's a mountain. A tower. A giant. Something you can escape or simply roll over.


    It signals the end. Though what exactly is the end? Anything, possibly, for no one is promised tomorrow. The only thing we can count on is today.


    Frankly, death is, perhaps, anything. Plenty of religions glamorize death as nothing but the afterlife, where you live again. Others predict it is another sort of afterlife, where you keep living again and again again until you live your life just as God or Allah or whomever your leader is intended in the first place. Others are promising rewards in the afterlife, having an understanding of God and the universe and even, in some cases, supernatural powers that were unavailable during the mortal life. Death often seems more attractive than being alive.


    Though we tend to avoid the reality of death. Death is, truthfully, the worst thing that's ever happened to our world. Our species. And sadly, death can come in so many ways. Cancer and Terminal Illnesses; Murder and Slaughter; Suicide and Depression; Abuse; Age. And there really is not particular way to escape it; not Eternal Youth or Immortality. Not escaping to Another World or being able to Change Bodies. Nothing. There is no way to outlive death, for Death is death and Death is life.


    After all; Life turned to Death and asked, "Why do people love me, but hate you?" Death just said, "Because you're a beautiful lie and a painful truth."


    Maybe it's unusual for a female of my age, my condition, my thoughts, my persona to daily ponder the question; What is Death? And as the interrogation expands and spans out across the world, infinite answers are borne. Infinite indefinite answers that we are incapable of proving. What pressures us into thinking the worst is that we see people fall and rise every day. And none that have risen are any that have fallen, now are they? No. Of course not. People fear this. They fear Hell and Oblivion. fear what could protrude from the depths of despair and darkness. And what can we do? I try to dig down for answers, but what answers approach me? None. Only syntheses and hypotheses and theories and ideas!


    No proof. No explanations. Just defeat, because I had realized that death could, perhaps, be nothing but eternal sorrow and darkness. Your soul fades, you fade; everything fades. So, by chance, could death really be another life? For, after all, Death is death and Death is life, whilst Life is life and Life is death. They are opposites that are each other, for each cannot be true without another.


    Death. This could possibly be a term for life, after all.
    Death. A question gone unanswered truthfully.
    Death. Simply a painful truth that cannot be torn apart.


    Death faded. Really, it did, because a voice was talking. Savannah! Crap, I forgot about her, so caught up in my damned Oblivion.


    "...uncomfortable we don't have to" was all I heard and embarrassed, I did nothing but nod along to her, squeezing my eyes shut briefly before snapping them open again, heart fluttering inside my ribs. "How about we enjoy the sun together?" Savannah advised, and scooted away to pat a spot for me on her sun blanket. Smiling, I sprawled out beside her, relieved that I could finally let go. "Thanks," I murmured, and allowed my hair to whiz out around me.


    "Where are you from?" I then inquired, remembering that she had ever so recently moved here to the South. "I'm, actually, from Springfield, Oregon, though I moved here to Georgia a while ago to, I don't know, escape cancer....?" I laughed and turned my full attention to her, waiting for an answer.

  • you know you wanna plot with this chic

    hello! perhaps a gxg thread with me would intrigue you?


    i'd like to do anything advanced and deep or saddening. no plots in mind at the moment, though, hopefully, some creativity will come to mind.


    oh, and sorry about my low post count. promises, i am advanced, just a new account. <33

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] [ lol, no problem. i understand low muse! and sure, of course we can time skip. ]


    Mom had had a hangover.
    Justin had gone away.
    And I was all alone in my house. Ill to the max.


    Downstairs, my drunk ass mother was corrupt on the couch, clothes stained in what smelled like vomit and vodka, what a pleasant mix. It didn't help that her slutty little black dress was stained, either, and there was a man on top of her. Naked. I had gone downstairs at about three am due to a loud commotion caused by my mother- cheering, hollering, etc. -and then saw the two of them passed out together. I'd stayed in my room reading And I Shall Reign for approximately the twelfth time until I got bored and tired to doze again. Savannah was on my mind, just whirring around it ever so pleasantly.


    I was dying to see her. I felt mentally bad and devastated, as for the past three days, I had gone without seeing her purposely. It was nothing personal toward her, but toward myself. In all honesty, I was a damned mess. Vomiting like crazy, losing weight like nothing else, screaming from insufferable pains, itching until my skin looked like a McDonald's sign. That morning, I was in my bed, not asleep from the terrifying image of my mother and the man. Just dozing, really.


    And then it felt as though a large, claws hand had gripped my pancreas and was squeezing the sac as hard as possible. Pain fingered its way into my back and abdomen and a sharp shriek escaped my petite lips. "MOM!!" Though the voice bounced off the walls and only returned to my ears. Terrified and in absolute pain, I swaddled myself in a fetal position as the itchy rash I had faced for days returned, and the redness darkened. I couldn't itch. I felt useless weak. The pain tore through me like a bulldozer until I screamed, tears cascading down my soft cheeks and onto my neck. "HELP. ME!!" I whined, and then the hazy gaze of passing out filtered against my eyelids.


    I couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel. I was searching for something to think about, searching for something to hold onto. I clutched my bed sheets, though of Savvy. "SAV!!" The terror in my voice was painful. "SAVVY!! PLEASE!!" How could she hear me, though, so distant...? And then I was blowing chunks all across the carpeted floor, just spilling it there. And then I toppled over and landed on it and groaned in pity for myself. "Just...in...? Sav...vy?" I murmured.


    And everything went dark.



    I'm dying, I thought as my vision returned. I'll finally see what the afterlife is- Savvy? No. I couldn't go to afterlife without her. I held on to life, not letting it consume me and held my breath. "Breathe, it's okay," a voice ushered. Something cool was pressed against my mouth. And when I exhaled, it got damp and humid and sticky. "M-mom...?" I whispered, but the voice was more masculine. "No, it's Justin. You had a pancreatic failure. Your body basically erupted with fluid."


    I glimpsed around, horrified. "Where am I? Where's Savvy? Mom? Justin, help me-"


    "It's okay," he said again, as though it were a promise. "We just got you back from the hospital. They ran some tests. You're home. Safe and sound, snug as a bug in a rug," Justin added, and leaned down to peck my forehead. I looked around again, weary. "I want...to see Savannah...before I die," I whispered inaudibly to myself, and, as usual, Justin heard. "You're not dying, Avalon, you're just...ill. But Mom and I would be find with you seeing Savannah."


    Finally, the familiarity of my baby blue room set in. And Justin was just perched in a chair reading The Shade, with his head down, comforting me with his presence. Sitting up, I felt a tug at my mouth and grimaced. There was a strange plastic breathing filament against my mouth, tubes attached to it leading to a pole with a sac of some sort of strange liquid. Like when you have a seizure or something. I touched the slender pole and inhaled sharply. "Did I have a stroke? Or a seizure?" Justin shook his head no. "Just a failure. That fluid is, though, helping you breathe a bit, though that's not what's it used for. It's sending a special fluid through the tube, into the filament where it condenses to a sort of gas, and into your throat when you breathe. Then it soothes and numbs your stomach and, lucidly, your pancreas."


    "Oh," I simply said, and reached for my IPhone sitting upon my nightstand. I turned it on and immediately found her number on speed dial. I wished I called it earlier. She didn't answer at first- maybe she wasn't at her phone? -so i left her a frail message. "Hi Savvy. Sorry I haven't talked to you in a while. I feel awful, I-" I began to choke on words. Should I tell her about the failure? No, no, I couldn't worry her. "-I've been busy. I'm...I'm so sorry. I feel miserable about it. Love you. Call me when you can, kay?"


    Then I hung up with tears stinging my eyes and grabbed my book and started to read.


    CHAPTER SIXTEEN;; Jer didn't answer his phone the entire week, which was terrifying. He had to call me. He just had to. Eventually. I tried not to worry and busied myself with other such things, such as cleaning my room about ten times- the angles and lighting...all so wrong. -before it was right and then tidied up downstairs.

    Still no answer from Jeremiah. And by noontime, the worst of thoughts consumed me. Fatality. And so I grabbed my phone and tossed it across the room, letting it smash against the wall before it crumpled to the wooden floor, where I grabbed my mother's boot and banged it repeatedly against the phone until it was in fragments. "ANSWER ME!!" I screamed, though how could he answer if I couldn't hear?


    By then, I was worried about Savvy's safety, so I tossed the book to the floor, trembling, and waited patiently for her to answer. "Savvy, Savvy, Savannah, I love you; Savvy, Savvy," I kept chanting, and Justin did not judge. Then I wondered something. "Jay, where were you this morning?"


    "Out with Mel," he said simply. I nodded. "Okay. How did you know I was home?"


    "I didn't. By chance, I got home about an hour or so after you passed out and immediately dialed 911." Exhaling slowly, I just bobbed my head and leaned back, clutching my phone to my breast. "She'll call, don't sweat it, Avalon."


    But I didn't

  • Ｉ ｃａｎ ｂｅ ｙｏｕｒ Ｓａｖｏｉｒ．．． ]]Fᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ﹗ PAFP﹗ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ﹗



    cancer type | pancreatic cancer
    cancer symptoms | weight loss, itching, nausea, vomiting,
    abdominal pain, back pain, and enlarged lymph nodes in the neck.
    age | sixteen and a half
    terminal? | possibly, 1/3 chance she could die.



    Like any, I despise my cancer. It kept me from
    doing the things I love, being the person
    I am. For years, I pondered just ending
    the suffering pain devouring my insides.
    But I couldn't bring myself to end it.
    So I kept living. And it was the best
    idea of my entire life.



    [align=left][font=times new roman][color=white] Come on, phone. Ring. Ring and be Savannah, please, I kept thinking, wishing and hoping that Savvy would call me and tell me she was coming over and we could embrace and Justin would understand and he'd say, "Leave it you, Sav," and then he'd walk out and I'd have my girlfriend all to myself and everything would be okay! But then I realized that that was severely impossible, as reality is a hole of pity and despair, but, frankly, why could it not be better? Why could it not hate certain people and drench them in cancer?


    It made me think of death again, and I didn't want to. What if Savvy was hurt or damaged her injured? What if she was ill or her cancer was devouring her again and I was sitting here, waiting for her to call me? I couldn't breathe. I was choking on the thought that Savvy was in danger, even more so than I, and I had not been informed and she'd die before I even made it to the hospital. I'm an egocentric, selfish b*tch! my thoughts blared, and I just opened my mouth in a silent scream. Justin sent me a weary look, and then his eyes looked worried. "Ava-"


    "Y-you'd tell m-me if Savvy was in the h-h-hospital and I w-wasn't around, r-right?" Dead silence shook the room. Justin hunched back down to his back, eyes glazed over. "Justin...?" I whispered, terror forcing my heart to race faster I thought it would explode. "Justin?!" I exclaimed again, sitting upwards, resulting in a sharp pain from my abdomen and spinal cord. "JUSTIN?!?!"


    "No, I wouldn't, Avalon, because then you'd be worried and afraid and I would have to comfort you and- look, I'm your big brother, I know, and you always want me to be here for you. You love me, right?" I nodded, trying not to let my nose run into the filament. "Remember that thing dad used to say? If you love something, let it go. Ava, I'm not going to be here forever. I found an apartment nearby and I may be moving in there with Spencer. You need to excel in your own independence, okay? So perhaps I wouldn't tell you. Perhaps I would say nothing at all, but it would be in a way to keep you safe. Right now- right now I promise you, Sav's okay. You're, for the most part, okay. I'm technically okay. Okay?" His doe eyes bored into mine, and then shuddered back down to whatever words he was reading. Eyes wide, I just gaped at him. He did nothing, too distracted by his book. Hand shaky, I pointed to the door. "Get out," I whispered, "get out of my room." Justin glanced up at me, then back down.


    Rage and depression bit at whatever the hurt was in my pancreas and I felt my body rip upwards again. "Get. Out!" I cried again, and he just stared at me. "Yelling isn't going to get me to go away any fast-"


    "GET OUT!!" My shrill voice echoed around the room and I was trying to grip on to all sanity, but my body was slowly starting to drift away and I knew, I just knew, Justin was changing and he was going to leave me behind to go absolutely mad. "You used to be so FUN, so CARING, and NOW THIS?! Now you want to JUST LEAVE ME?! Dammit, Justin, we're FAMILY, and I could, perhaps, be DYING, or DIE SOON! I could be in that 33% that die from this, and you SAY THAT to me?!" I bobbed my head in disbelief. "GET OUT. Just GET. OUT!" When he didn't budge, I grabbed the nearest object and chucked it at him. A book, I guess. He got the idea and stood up, walking out of the room, shoulders sagging. And then he closed the door, reopened it, whispered, "Sav's here," and then disappeared.


    Moments later, when my door was shut tightly again, I heard frantic banging. "It's Savannah! Please, let me in!" Hoarsely did I sputter out, "It's open. Come in," and I just tried to relax, to let the hatred fade away. But the tension in the air was thick, you could cut it with a knife. Exhaling slowly and regaining my composure, I waited for her to step in. Maybe she was worried. I tried comforting her. "Don't worry, it's not that bad. I'm...I'm semi-okay."