Him Again

He's here again today. The same guy from before, the blunt one. I'm sat here looking out over the sea and he sits beside me once more.

'Come here often?' He asks and I laugh. 'Aden' he tells me, offering his hand.

'Kalewi,' I tell him.

'So how are we feeling today?' He says, looking at me as though he is looking through me.

'Fine,' I try to say, but he is already carrying on; 'Tired? Sad? Thoughtful? Contemplative?'

I look back at him, my eyes wide, trying to see through him instead. He is tall, and tanned, with sun bleached blonde hair and strong blue eyes that are almost green that light up his face. His body is fit and firm, muscular, from I imagine years of being active.

'Scared?' He adds after a pause.

'What are you talking about?' I try to laugh it off, trying not to show that he's breaking down my defences.

'Sitting up here all by yourself as the sun goes down. None of your noisy friends here today, just you, silence and the sea.'

'Fresh air.' I tell him. 'Sometimes it's nice.'

'Sure.' He says with that unbelieving voice.

'You know what?' I answer back, louder than I expected, 'you don't know anything. Come here and try and tell me I'm sad or scared or whatever. You don't know me.'

'Maybe that's what you need.' He replies calmly, not rising to my bait. 'Someone who doesn't know anything about you. Someone who will just listen.'

'Right.' I say, getting to my feet. 'That's just what I need.'

And I'm gone, feeling his eyes boring into my back as I walk away.

Confusion

What do you do when you love someone and want to share this with them, but you know sharing will hurt them?

The problem I have is opening up. Sharing with people what I need them to know. I hate asking for help. I want people to see me as strong, confident and empowering. I don't want to be seen as The Poor Little Sick Girl. But I need to talk about this, and the killer point is that I expect people to know without being told.

I'm just me, just a friend, I have no right to pull people down by giving them bad news, or telling them that I need help. I've been trying so hard to do this by myself but its difficult sometimes.

So I wish there was someone I could talk to. Someone who would understand, and tell me not to worry. Not to be scared. That everything will be alright.

But who? Who's strong enough? Who could handle that? Who is not going to run away and distance themselves. Because anyone who could open their heart and care for me is gonna get hurt in the long run. Because I've gotta leave this place.

I don't want to hurt anyone. If I get close to anyone then when I go it's gonna be hard on them. But does that mean I have to distance my friends? I'm so confused.

The Cloud

So I have these perfect friends, in a perfect town, in a life that's pretty close to being perfect, but there's that one little cloud that's always there.

It'a called Cancer. Brain Tumour.

It's called Time Is Slipping Away.

It's called Live As Much As You Can Now, Because There's Not Long Left.

They found it at Christmas. I had a stupid accident involving a skateboard, gravity and a very solid road. And when they were x-raying my broken skull they found it. It took a long time to work out what it was though, it's not a normal tumor apparently. Not that I could tell you, I tend to stop listening when the medical mumbo jumbo begins. I don't want to listen to Timescales and Medicines and Operations. I want to listen to music and laughter and the seagulls crying and the waves lapping at the shore.

The tumor is in the middle of my head and it's stopping the cerebrospinal fluid - which I like to call Brain Juice - from moving around. So I have what is called Hydrocephalus - or in commoner speak; Water On The Brain. Which, truthfully, sounds pretty scary. So in a couple of weeks they want to drill holes in my head and see if they can get it to drain.

And then there's the fact that even if they can drain this fluid, I still have a f**k-off big thing in my head that shouldn't be there. And what's to stop it growing, spreading? What's to say it hasn't already? Cause it has. And that's where the problem is.

If I think about it I get scared. So I don't think. I live for now. I dance, I lie on my back and look at clouds, I run as fast as I can, I read stories that take you away and poetry that makes everything seem clearer, I dream.

I smile and I laugh and I live in the moment.

This Is Me

Maybe I should tell you more about me...

My name is Kalewi and I'm 18years old. I'm a student. I play volleyball, surf, snowboard and trampoline for my uni. I also dance, swim, skate-longboard and I want to start kickboxing.

I love sunshine and I love the rain. I love smiles and laughter, and vanilla ice cream, and the smell of freshly baked cookies as they come out of the oven. I love the lines that planes make in the sky and the silly things that children say. I love family who make you happy and family who make you cry, and I love that feeling when you can look around all the way and see nobody, when you're so far alone that you can see nobody. To me, that's real bliss. I love the noise and the happiness that comes from living in a big city, but to me, to be standing on the beach, looking out at the water, or hidden up in a tree where no one can see you, that's where the special moments are.

So I have three parents; momma, dad and stepmom. There was a sort-of-stepdad at one point too and his two kids who were my sort-of-stepsiblings. But they're out of the picture now. My parents split when I was 12, and as nasty as it might sound, I'm glad they did. They were unhappy so long, and now they are getting that happiness back. Although at the time, I wasn't so understanding. My parents are fantastic, and even though I'm 300 miles away from them, I only left to escape the town, not them.

I have one older brother who lives a little closer - only 250 miles away. He is called Simba, because he has a big mane of hair and he's big and strong and my own personal lion. We were best friends when we were younger, but we drifted apart through school and now eventually we're good friends again. And by 'drifted apart' I mean 'We Wanted To Kill Each Other'.

My best friend lives back in my old home too, and I miss her everyday. She's so special because she has this crazy insight to the world that makes her so thoughtful and so so so clever. She's fast too, got a tongue that could rival the best. Her wit is brilliant! So quick, so sharp and so funny!

So now it's just me, all alone in my little uni room, away from my family and all the friends I've had my whole life. And although I miss them all a lot, I've never been happier. My new home is beautiful. The friends I've made here just blow my mind again and again with their kindness and their soul and their altogether beauty. Every now and again it still strikes me that people have the capacity to be so beautiful, and not just physically. To see something that can make you smile for the rest of the day is special. And to me, that happens pretty much every day.

The Rain

It's raining today. Heavy and hard. Chasing people to hide away. The streets are empty. Quiet.
Apart from me.
I'm here in the rain, running as fast as I can. Away from me, away from this, away from sickness and sadness. Towards the sunshine on the other side of the hill. I can see it there, that faint spot on the horizon where the sun is trying to poke through the clouds and lighting the tiniest part which bends and mists and looks too unreal to be believable.
I run faster, harder, I run until it hurts and I can't run anymore. But I still can't reach the sun.
So I sit on the wet grass, and wrap my arms around my knees, rain pounding down on my neck. Home is on my left side, the sea and the world on my right. I want to jump in the water and swim, and swim, and swim, and keep swimming until I reach the sun on the other side.
Mat Kearney sings quietly in my ear;
'Like a breath of fresh air and the wind at my back
Toe to heel with strong strides taking miles off the map
In this journey called life where I've walked so far
Under the heat of your sun and the shine of your stars'

But I've not walked that far. Not far enough yet. I just need more time.

I Will Fight

I'm 18 years old. This shouldn't be happening.

But it is.

They say there's nothing I can do about it.

But there is.

I can fight. I will fight.

And then I'll show them who's the sick one.

The First

She sat there on her skateboard, pushed up to the grass looking out over the water. Her long hair curled behind her, playing in the wind.

I sat beside her.

'Got a lighter?'

She pulled one from her pocket.

'You shouldn't be smoking,' I tell her.

'Neither should you,' she answers with a sly smile playing on her lips.

'I'm old,' I reply. 'Decrepit. You're young and fit. What's your excuse?'

'I've got lots of excuses.' She says.

I laugh. Because no one has an excuse. 'Ok, what is it? Your biggest excuse.'

She laughs this time, and shakes her head at me. 'No'. I wait as she breathes in and then slowly breathes out a line of smoke, watching it, seeing it dance before her. Then she looks at me, squarely, no fear in her eyes. 'I'm going to die', she says.

'Aren't we all?' I ask. Then I sigh. 'That's a good one though. What's wrong with you?'

She looks at me with a smile. 'Are you always this blunt?'

'Where's the time for small talk? You get that, right.'

'Right.' She turns away again, casting her eyes back to the ocean stretching before us.

'So what is it?'

'Brain tumour.' She says.

'Cancer.' She breathes.