www.whyville.net Jun 26, 2011 Weekly Issue

Guest Writer

Confessions of a Victim

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Author's Note: X here again, giving you all a hello! Because of various factors, I have decided to cut short my series of confessions. This is the last one I will be submitting, although I hope you enjoyed learning my secrets. You can find my other articles in the previous four weeks or so of the Times.

There's something you've probably never guessed about me. I have cancer. Brain cancer, stage three, which was found about two months ago. The doctors haven't said it's terminal, at least not yet, but I know it's pretty bad. My parents can't afford treatment until August, so I haven't told anyone. I overheard my doctor tell my parents that I had about two years to live if I didn't get my treatment within the next six months. That scares me, I must admit. The kind of cancer I have isn't common for kids, but the prognosis for adults isn't very good. I'm only fourteen, and I'm terrified I won't get to live out my dreams. That's part of why I decided to write this series, to just admit everything about myself while I still have time. Maybe, by saying what I want, it could somehow become more of a reality.

Most fourteen year old girls don't have to think about death. I'm a pessimist, and the thought that I might live through this just won't stay in my mind. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I just cannot see myself living past eighteen. I realize how morbid that is, but it's simply the truth. As much as I'd love a future, being a nurse and an actress, I can't see it.

What if I live? What if I give life everything I've got before eighteen, run myself dry, then live and have nothing left to give? Sometimes I wonder if it might be better just to end my life before I get to eighteen so I don't have to deal with that. No, that's crazy. I don't want to leave anyone with the guilt of thinking they could've helped. I've read stories of people who've had friends or family that hurt themselves like that. Even if I was only reading the story, I could see the agony in some of the words. I could never imagine doing that to someone.

What am I actually going to do? I have absolutely no idea. This isn't the sort of thing an average teen thinks about. I guess I'll just have to go through the treatment, and try to survive for my family. I'm not sure I can do it, though. I'm not that strong. If I don't have the will to live, I might just die, and that would practically be killing myself. Until I get to that point, maybe I'll just try to use my cancer as a point to push me towards my dreams. You know, play the sick, pathetic kid and get everything handed to me on a silver platter. Normally, I wouldn't do that, but I'm sick of playing fair. I'm using every advantage I can get in life.

What's the moral this week? There is none. It's not like I can tell you not to get cancer or not to be down on life. Those aren't choices. Just hope that you won't be in my situation.

Signing off, one last time,


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