How To Love✓

1.

Amara

As I sit in front of another blank canvas for the day in the spirit of inquiry, I think about the many things I had the opportunity to implement that would make my life meaningful. I am pulled out of my string of thoughts as my mother places a sketch of a schizophrenic person in my view.

"What is this?" We both stare at the anomalous charcoaled portrait for a while. When I finally look at her, I shrug, picking up a drawing pencil for what seemed like the first time this afternoon.

"Dr. Campbelle told me to find my inner passion....and here it is. Although Art wasn't exactly something I would've ever thought of doing, I'm actually pretty good at it," I say while fixing the cannula that connected to my nose. I took a deep breath in every five seconds, the oxygen in the can that connected to the end of the tube really wasn't reviving me back to my normal life.

For all of those who may be wondering why I blurted that out, yes I have a touch of lung cancer. A little shitty because wherever I go I carry my life on my back or in between my fingers. But I wouldn't get into the explanation just yet. My objective is the opposite of startling the only friends I'll ever have.

"How are you feeling since your last visit?" she crosses her thin arms over her stomach and urges me to answer.

"Other than feeling like I'm about to die of suffocation and that I'm never going to get better, it's all been good, I guess," I answer sarcastically.

"The attitude," she scolds, "you think the only way to lead a meaningful life is for everyone to remember you."

"Well thank you again for constantly reminding me of how waste less I am and how my existence has no righteous place in this world, better yet, in your life. Gosh! No wonder dad left," I roll my eyes and continued on with my drawing.

"Amara Belle do not start with me," her voice raises a little and I knew that I wasn't going to hear the end of her. "You don't know what hell your father and I have gone through. You don't have any idea what I've been through."

"Mom you don't know what I'm going through," I emphasise.

"I don't want to seem a nuisance to you mother. Ever since I was a little girl, I was always a problem. You don't even realise the pain I'm encountering."

She sighs and comes around to stand behind me. Tucking a loose strand of hair away from my eyes, she placed a subtle kiss to my hair and rubbed my shoulders apologetically.

"Do you ever follow the rules?" she arches her eyebrows.

"When you tell me to do something, I'm always ready to do it."

"I just," she pauses for a moment. I took this as a sign that she needed my full attention and turned around to face her.

"How about you go out for your birthday tonight? You are turning 18," she says, changing the subject.

"Parties are filled with drugs and weed and I'll probably end up getting drunk and have a one night stand with a complete stranger."

"Oh! How about you and Cotton go watch a movie?"

Cotton was my best friend since before we were born. No it's not a girl, he's pretty much a dude, only if he had a genital transplant he didn't inform me about. He was the all rounder, not your typical high school jock. Captain of the Math league, works with the college's drama club, the 'Save The Marine Life' committee and a straight A student. He stands at 6'3, has light brown eyes and short wavy chestnut hair, an original tan complexion and to make you waver, he possesses a British accent which makes the ladies seemingly want to drop their underwear for him. But, the guy rejects each and every one of them.