18 years old and your life changes. And whether that is because of a moment, a memory, a current event, or even a person your life changes and in that moment, it is up to you to decide if it is for the good or the bad. We don't realize this at first but everything that this life has to give to us is in the palm of our hands and sometimes are hands are just a little too full. And what we carry with us is for us to decide, because we have our own fate and we have the pleasure of choosing it, or so many say.
I believe that everything happens for a reason. You get your heart broken into a million pieces by a guy who you thought was the one and all you can think about is how much time you wasted on nothing, but is it really nothing? Did you really not learn anything out of that experience? You learn shortly after that not everyone is going to stick around and you learn that people aren't always who they say they are. I just happened to learn and encounter these situations everyone because unlike many others I had to grow up. It wasn't a choice anymore and I coul dn't choose to sit in my room and imagine my life as a Disney Princess, no, I had to go out and I had to create my own life for myself, because I didn't have much time left.
Have you ever heard your mother crying? A horrible wailing sound that anyone could tell was being held in for way too long. That is when, everything slowly but surely sunk in. That me, Audrey Smith an 18-year-old retired juvenile delinquent discovered that her 60 plus years of life that would include, marriage, kids, menopause had been bumped down to only living for a few more short precious months. Every single day there has been chains bound to my ankles and my wrists forcing me to grow weaker and weaker with each second. Each step that I had taken whether that was getting out of bed in the morning or trying to be comforting and contain the cries of my wailing mother, the bags that were placed every so distinctly under my eyes had become darker just as my strawberry blonde hair surely became shorter. I had once been the reason for my mother’s bright entrancing smile when I had entered this world as just a tiny pupil  and who would have ever thought that she would also see me exit, unfortunately  not as graceful as when I had entered. The only difference being that, that bright smile that had been plastered across my mother's face, would soon be replaced by a broken heart.
I never thought I would ever see this day. I mean I did, but not like this and certainly not this soon. I had learned about this horrendous disease throughout my entire high school life, considering at least one of my friend’s family members have either had it and or were fighting it, and now I know. I know what it's like to not be able to sleep because why sleep when you’re going to be sleeping for eternity, by yourself and all alone. The only exception being that instead of a comfy Tempur-Pedic mattress I would be sleeping in a coffin with my name engraved onto it and a quote probably saying, “Daddy's Little Angel”. And I will be alone, underneath the ground. I will have people walking over me and I mean actually walking all over me without even noticing and that is something I can tell you right now I will never get used too.
So now I sit and stare, but only in my room and or one of the many hospital rooms that they decided to place me on that very evening because my mother doesn't think it's good for me to walk around so much. And she most certainly doesn't want me watching TV especially if it involves Jerry Springer, it reminds her to much of her “younger years”. So now that my eyes are filled with nothing besides white walls and old jello cups; I quietly think. Because my eyes have now gazed upon every single nook and cranny that my room and many hospital rooms have had to offer. My goodbyes are now on constant repeat in my mind as I think about my soon disintegrating life in front of me.
How do you say goodbye to your family when they taught you how to say Hello and how do you leave when everyone is begging you to stay? I don't have a choice. I don't have a voice. I don't have a life anymore, because my life I'm guessing wasn't worth keeping anymore. The more I fight the harder it is for me to do anything, including keeping my eyes open.
Strong, is a word I am often described as, but I don't think this is what strong should feel like. Right now, all I feel is nothing and I don't know whether that should scare me or not. Strong is something you should feel when everything in your life is going right, and hell my life doesn't even begin to be close to that even remotely. I can feel myself go numb, but this isn't something that happens all at once. It happens slowly, and steadily until everything goes black. The only thing I can even begin to do is get up and walk to my now cluttered desk top that had held my new notebooks and pencils that I will not be needing. A pencil wrapped tightly in my embrace slowly made its way across the white lined paper that had once encaptured my entire life. Tired couldn't begin to describe my pain as I lay my head on the purple pillowcase holding onto the piece of white lined paper that had “Daddy's Little Girl” inscribed into it.