She was so hyper aware of what others thought, so fixated on their opinions, that she found herself wondering how should she be acting? She was a sensitive soul, crying at sad films, books, even little looks she thought might be off.
But this was something she’d barely shed a tear for. It wasn’t that she was heartless, or that the little things mattered more than the big things, but when something serious happened, it was like her tear ducts refused to cooperate. Like her whole emotional system had flipped upside down. She’d giggle when she wanted to sob, she’d smirk when she wanted to gasp. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t how it was meant to be.
And what would people think? That she was heartless. That she couldn’t possibly care. That perhaps she was even making it all up. How could someone be so ok when this was all happening around her?
She over analysed things, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t responding like a normal person. But what was a normal reaction?
None of it even felt real. Like she’d wake, or they’d tell her they got it wrong. She wasn’t ready to lose her, not yet. She knew death was inevitable. That everyone left. But not yet. Not this young. Not when they was still so much life to live.
And she knew that the estimate was just that. An estimate. But she still felt angry. What did anyone else know? Who were they to predict these time frames, to give this final deadline? No one had control over a life, no one could definitely say that it was terminal, because surely there was always a glimmer of hope. There had to be. She refused to believe otherwise.
As as she relieved these words onto her friends, as she admitted these confusing feelings, she felt her lip begin to wobble. She heard the crack in her throat, sensed the burning sensation as a lumped formed.
She wanted to forget it all now. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut. She wished she never mentioned it.
…And she felt the tears spill down her cheeks.
How ironic that she would say all this. Tell them that she didn’t feel like she should be feeling, that she wasn’t crying, that she was ok.
She hated being so out of control.