Two days ago, I turned 16. Both of my parents agreed that I should look for friends in my neighbourhood because I look sad. I spent quite a lot of time in bed, drawing in my old sketchbook. I rarely take showers because of all the cables and medical stuff that I have to adjust, only for a 5-minute event that didn't reward me anything except a fresh scent that last about 3 hours.

Besides drawing, I like to think about death. My osteosarcoma is on stage II, and while it does not mean that I'm terminal, I felt weak all the time. I have no motivation to live, except for waiting for the oasis reunion, that is not gonna happen anytime soon.

“Ethan!! Have you done your regimen yet? It's almost 1 PM,” shout mum from outside. I could hear her footstep approaching me.

Having cancer is sucks, but not because of the pain that you felt, it's because of people's reactions. Most of them when approached me, and would ask questions like are you okay? Is it painful? and more. It's tiring. People see me as cancer, not as a guy.

I never got questions from people that are unrelated to cancer. When I show my 'friends' some of my pictures, they instead ask, “How can you draw when you are sick?”.

Then I heard a sudden burst into my room. It is my mum. “Are you alright, sweetie?” she said, seeing me in a blank stare towards my drawing book.

“Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit bored,” I said, barely nodding towards her.

“Well sweetie, you can watch TV, or read the magazine-”

“Stop it, mom. I'm tired of all this shit. Like, stop forcing me to watch that polar bear documentary, and stop forcing me to read anything educational. I knew you meant good with your logic 'because I am homeschooled I study anywhere anytime' but that is simply stupid.”

After I say that whole sentence, my breath was running out. “That was mean, honey. I'll leave you now, but don't forget to drink your medicines, okay?” she said, before leaving me alone.

I sighed. I don't know what's my sell point. My face was like a water tunnel rat, and I can't walk for 5 minutes without sweating my face off. My ghost-coloured skin also didn't help, I get sunburned easily. Maybe the only things attractive about my facial features are my straight blonde hair and my light blue eyes.

Anyway, mum looked sad, but I didn't bother to look at her. I have this ability to speak without speaking; changing my facial expression dramatically. Eventually, she left without saying anything.

Maybe I am too harsh to people around me. I knew this, but I can't overcome this issue. I always felt depressed. My usual coping method is to hit my head into my old pillow, or just jump around in bed.

---

Today, I got an urge to take a walk outside. It's still 5 A.M, but I didn't care. I want to breathe fresh air. I just want to get out of this stupid room full of medical equipment.

So, I slowly get up from the bed, leaning support on my crutch, and made my way to the wardrobe. There, I changed into my hoodie that I never got to wear because well, I'm sick most of the time. I didn't bother to put socks on because it would require me to bend down, which honestly is a pain in the ass.

I made a little note to my parents and left it on the coffee table, before proceeding to the door.

The cold wind makes my lungs happy. It's been a while since I breathe fresh natural air, not the "oxygen tube" one. I gradually walked up on roadside. There is no one walking, and I can relax now.

I was lost in my thoughts. I imagine my body but in a different situation: a healthy boi who is jogging with his ear covered by headphones, singing Live Forever by Oasis on the way. "Must be fun" I thought in my brain.

10 minutes later, I reached the park. My armpit is sore from the crutch, and my body felt weak. I imagined myself in bed and just dropping into the thick blanket. But I'm here now, so I won't waste anytime here.

I found a bench, and sat on it, placing my crutch next to me. I open my handbag and grab my trusty sketchbook and pencils.

My drawing is bad. But it was the only way I could have some fun when I was in the hospital. So it continues, until today. I sat for quite a lot amount of time before my arm felt cramp.

I walked home, leaning heavily on the crutch. It's nice to be out here, seeing all those birds and trees as summer approaches.

"ARRGGH" I shouted. I fell, pushed by someone from my back. I got faceplanted to the tarmac.

Well, the embarrassment is out of scale. So, instead of asking peacefully, I got angry.

"Sorry dude, I didn't see-"

"DIDN'T see? I was literally there! walking with my crutch." I answered, as I slowly turning my face so I can see the guy.

The guy is around my age, with messy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looked a little bit sheepish, and he held out a hand to help me up.

"I'm so sorry," the boy said, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I didn't mean to crash into you like that. I'm Karl, by the way."

I grab the boy hands, and slowly taking myself off out of the tarmac. He give my crutch, and soon I leaned on it heavily. "I'm Ethan," I said, still sounding angry. The thing with me is, I get emotional so fast. I don't know what happened to my mind.

"Well, you need to watch where you're going, man." I said again. I'm still tense. The fall itself didn't cause any issue, but it distracted everything in my mind.

Karl grinned, looking a little bit relieved that I wasn't (facially) too angry with him. "Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a little shaken up, that's all."

We stood there for a moment, awkwardly staring at each other. But then Karl spoke up again.

"Hey Ethan, wanna walk together? My home is also that way, and I could use some company," Karl said, smiling.

I nodded carefully. I never saw someone interested in walking with me before. And then suddenly this stranger want to walk with me.

As we walked, he explain himself. "My name is Karl Schmidt."

"Pardon? Smith?" I said.

"S-C-H-M-I-D-T" he muttered.

"AH. Must be Germans right?" I said.

"Nope actually, I was born and raised in Leicester before moving to this area. My dad are the one who is from East Germany, back when it is still divided. How 'bout you?"

"My full name is Ethan Stanley. From London. Moved here because my father died."

"Aw man. That sucks. Hope he's going to heaven," he answered, smiling.

Then, as we talk, I got to understand that he is kind and caring. He used to have a little brother that look like me, but he died because of cancer too.

At the end, I think Karl can be my friend. He seems humble enough. I hope this gonna get better in the future, and maybe, just maybe, one day I could be "well" enough to experience all kind of teenager thing.