do+you+believe+in

media type="custom" key="2991038" “Do you believe in God?” I asked him, as he pushed the lost strands of hair away from his face. “I only believe in what I know is true.” He stated “Yeah, I don’t know what to believe.” I admitted, but only to him and reluctantly to myself. "There's no proof, so I don’t feel comfortable believing in it.” I extended my legs beneath the tired tree, whose shade draped over the two of us. “What about ghosts?” I insisted, hoping he would consider. “I’ve never seen one, so I can’t say I do.” I sighed. “How about people in our dreams?” I examined his converse, both encased with mud. "Like people you dream up?" He asked as his interest dwindled. “No, like people who die and come back in your dream.” He stood up and leaned his body against the trunk of the tree and ignored my question. I pulled my knees into my chest, and pressed my heels into the hardened ground. I waited for him to say something, but all I heard was the chatter of delicate birds, the kind you never see, but know they’re right above you. The humidity stuck to the inside of my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. At least, that what I told myself. “What are you trying to get at? He answered, while he turned his back. “Nothing,” I objected. But that was a lie. I dug my heels deeper into the ground and my stomach felt like it had been tied into a thousand knots. “Come to think of it, I’ve dreamt of people who are dead.” "Like who?” He folded his arms. “Well, my cousin. Oh and my grandmother, a few times.” I added. He took a deep breath. I could tell that he was frustrated. “It’s just a coincidence,” His tone was flat. “Funny, I don’t believe in coincidence.” I rebottled. “I'm not laughing." "That was rhetorical." "No, I don't think you understand KJ- But I did understand. I understood it all, more than he would ever be able to fathom. "You never call me that. Not since we were thirteen" "I know." He whispered. I bowed my head and secluded my tears with the palms of my hands. "I finally put it together." His voice shook like a faint earth quake. "What!!?" I cried out. "Why you moved-" "That I moved here," I Interrupted," because I'm what? Sick? Huh, is that what you were thinking? That they have some special hospital for kids like me?" " Stop it" He clamored. "No, I think it's time for you to stop and get over it. I'm not going to get better, I will never be better! Yes, I'm sick, sick, sick. S-i-c-k! Not with the chicken pox, or the flu. I have l-i-e-u-k-i-m-i-a." "I know just stop it!" "I'm dying." I said in disbelief that I had just let the sour truth pour from my mouth, like a pitcher of lemonade.” And you want to know the worse part? It's rhetorical by the way," I laughed almost amused. "You don't-" "I can't even say it. The very essence of the word, it just kills me!" Literally!" I snickered! “Will you just stop!” He pleaded. “You think there’s a day that goes by that I don’t think about you. You are in my head, constantly.” “You know, when I moved here.” I lifted myself off the ground. “I didn’t have to be the little sick girl. In my own delusional world, being with you meant I wasn’t sick. I told myself repeatedly that it was impossible to for someone to be sick if they were happy, but things change and it’s getting harder and harder for me to believe in anything.” I looked at his face, but it had vanished into the dusk of the night. I felt his hand take mine and place it on his chest. “You feel that?” I nodded my head. “I believe, that as long as your heart is still beating, you can be whatever you want. So when you’re with me, there isn’t such a word as l-e-u-k-e-m-i-a. As I said, I only believe in what is true."