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Hot Survivor Nights

I lie in bed melting within the silence. Falling into a space I know all too well ; I began to breath deeply. I breath hard from my core and my eyes start to water. The ceiling fan is staring down at me through the dark. Stiffly, I zone out while restraining my hands from moving. My throat it tightening up, fighting visions of pain streaming through my veins. Phantom flashes of what once was, now begin to resurface, causing me to wince. Blinking heavily, my pinky holds on to control. My hands start to rise, crawling up my waist and I want it to stop. I silently tell myself “NO” repeatedly, but I don’t listen, I can’t hear. The pain calls out to my hands and they can’t help but to receive it. 


I graze over the mountains hiding behind the soft tissue of my breast, where the pain lives. I’m now silently begging myself "to just leave it alone". Fear opens its mouth, falsely prophesying the sickness growing within me again. I block out the words, but still I feel them spreading lies over the parts my fingertips poke over. 

Tears flow down my face in the dark . I am so tired, every time ; I am so tired. Tired of living with subconscious fear that at any given moment the doctors will try to control my life again. 

I rub my face, then flow past my collar bone to compare my breast. I let my hands coast further, patting my thighs lightly to give my body a little comfort. Listening to my higher'self whisper over and over that "I’m ok.. its okay”.. I breath so deeply; it shoots a quiver throughout me.

Anger splashes in my face and rip my hands away from my body. I’m upset with my brain, upset that it gets confused and leads me to weak thoughts. I roll over, as if I have an attitude with the left side of the bed, breathing hysterically trying to ignore my tears.

My spine hurts from the stiffness in my throat. Staring out into the blackness with my lips tight in a frown, I lie there alone in my beautiful sanctuary. My eyes are smiling in the center realm, they know better, they know more. I trust them and I feel better, better enough to fall asleep. 


Waking the next day, the pain is faint to nearly gone, as usual. I stretch my arms out, throwing my head back.

Smiling up at the ceiling, I let my teeth show as God kisses me all over my face.

Oh how I love Him for choosing me to be a survivor. 

I am survivor… yea, 'cancer' may have done its damage , but that was then.

Today is a new day; I won’t feel like remembering back when I fell victim to a fake disease.


I’m Gods Jerusalem and He’s sure that I've never been sick before.

Hallelujah , Im a survivor of Chemotherapy and its accommodations.

       I'm still here, Now what..


V.S . 




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