Cancer

What eats away at you when everything seems perfect?

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Cancer. It’s not always a disease, you know.

Sometimes, it’s that gnawing, festering thing deep inside your heart that won’t let go. The kind of thing that spreads, unnoticed at first, until one day you realize it’s everywhere — in your thoughts, in your breath, in every beat of your heart.

My heart is broken.

There’s this aching inside of me, a weight that won’t shift no matter how hard I try to push it down. It’s like a lump in my throat, suffocating me when I least expect it, and clawing its way up when I try to speak or breathe.

Some days, it’s quieter, just a dull throb, but other times, it howls so loud I think it might tear me apart from the inside.

The last time I tried to spit it out, to finally speak about what’s rotting me from within, my so-called best friend, Marie, just smiled that infuriatingly perfect smile and said,

“Rihana, I’m pretty sure you have nothing to be worried about. Your parents are rich, and you have the best man one could ever hope for.”

Rich!, Best man! As if that’s all there is to happiness. As if money and a ring can cure the cancer inside me. It made me wonder — how can anyone truly know the flavor of…

But I’m not!

Sometimes, I wonder if I’m cursed with a blessing or blessed with a curse.

These days, I think I belong to that hollow category where everything looks perfect on the outside but feels like ashes inside.

I smile, I laugh, I go through the motions, but deep down, there’s a rotting emptiness. And what’s worse, I don’t even know what’s missing.

Does anyone ever think of me? Like, think of me.

Do I ever pop into someone’s head on a random Tuesday afternoon, the way others do for me?

There are times when I see a person in a crowd, and they remind me of someone I once knew. But am I ever that fleeting thought for someone else?

Or am I just … invisible?

I’ve spent more than 18 years of my life wishing for better, hoping that something — anything — would change. But nothing ever does. I never seem to get what I want; what I feel I deserve.

And, if I’m honest, the worst part is that I don’t even know what it is I want.

It’s like a dream you forget the moment you wake up — you know it was beautiful, or maybe terrifying, but it’s gone before you can hold on to it.

I am tired!

Tired of pretending. Tired of holding this aching, gnawing thing in my chest. Tired of being mute to my desires, too afraid to want, because wanting means admitting something is missing, doesn’t it? It means admitting that I’m broken in ways no one can see.

I hate it!

I hate feeling like I’m being eaten alive by something I can’t even name. I hate that I’ve been given everything people think they want, and yet, none of it fills the hollow part of me.

Sometimes, I think if I could just pull this cancer out of my chest — if I could name it, scream it out, wrench it free — maybe then I’d finally feel at peace.

But for now, I just keep on smiling, keep on pretending!!

After all, no one wants to hear about a cancer they can’t see.

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Author's Note:

Hey there! So, this story isn’t about me. It’s about how my friend feels about herself, and she asked me to put her feelings into words. She’s the kind of person who keeps a brave face but fights battles no one sees. Writing this was my way of giving her unspoken feelings a voice.

I hope it speaks to someone out there who feels the same. Let’s stop pretending we’re fine when we’re not, yeah? Sometimes, sharing the weight makes it lighter.

Don't forget to Comment, as I love reading your thoughts regarding this!