I believe that everyone has good days, and everyone has bad days. Both are equally scary. I know that whenever I have a good day, I dread for the bad. My life feels like on big, bad day. Needles and pills and MRI scans, breathless nights, irregular muscle movements and blurry visions. It's like a nightmare. A dark cloud comes into my life and rains on my parade. Story. Of. My. Life.

I'm sick. Not just sick like fevers, chills, colds. I'm really sick. I have metastatic brain cancer.

"Mom," I groaned, "My head hurts."

"I know." She covered me up with a blanket. "You have an appointment today, by the way."

That's pretty much what happened with me. Eat, sleep, doctors appointments, and sometimes, when my cancer decided to give me a break, a little time at the mall or a movie with my mom. And it was hard even doing that, because one thing I've learned from having cancer, is that it makes me tired as hell and sometimes I just want to lay in bed and sleep all day.

I never really dressed up, or did my hair, or cared if I was wearing makeup. I just left my hair, which was short; went about three quarters of the way down my neck, down, or put it into a ponytail and threw my glasses on.

Usually I wore sweatpants with v-necks and my navy blue vans. If I went out with my parents to dinner, sometimes I'd wear a dress; not a pleasing dress, just something simple. I didn't really care what anyone thought about the way I dressed. I have an excuse. 'Sorry, I'm too tired to get dressed. My brain is full of a disease that makes me want to crawl in bed and do nothing but read, better yet get dressed in something nice.'

I'd probably never actually say that, though. There is nothing I hate more than when people pity me, or, the opposite, talk about me and my disease behind my back. But all I am to the World is a sick girl.

Every morning and night, I take steroids. They don't always help kill cancer cells in all patients, but they've been working on me for as long as I can remember having brain cancer. Let me tell you, it's a lot better than radiation, which I used to do. I lost all of my hair, and as a adolescents girl, it was hard.

I lived a pretty pathetic life. I try to enjoy the sorrowful life of Allyson Dawson. I try.

I remember the day my family and I found out my liver cancer had spread to my brain. It was hard, because liver caner's one thing, but over half of the people with brain cancer die from it. That's what scared my parents. Honestly, I knew that I'd die from it one day, but I never shared that with my parents.

Another day at the hospital. When we'd gotten to the doctor, my head kept getting worse, and nothing was working, so I passed out. And now here I am, all alone in the hospital room. With my luck, I'll probably be here for a few weeks.

A women nurse walked into the room and handed me my pills. "Hey, they're holding a group session with other cancer patients you're age in the empty room at the end of the hall. You're mom suggested you go."

I pouted. "I'll go."

She helped me up, demanded I used my wheelchair, which I disagreed with, and then she helped me down to the room. It was bigger than any of the patient's rooms, which was nice, but the old paint on the wall was chipping and the windows in the corners were covered in dirt and dust.

"Thank you," I said and then walked into the room, with a limp of course. That's what sucks about brain cancer. Sometimes the cancer cells make you forget things such as walking and talking and can change a person's alertness, muscle control mental capacity. Like this one time, I was in the middle of talking to the cashier at a book store, and I totally forgot how to talk for a minute. So I just stood there, trying to talk. The cashier totally thought I was crazy.

There were chairs lined up in the room, some filled already with other teenage cancer patients. I took a seat next to a girl I'd seen a few times.

After everyone had filed into the room, an older woman walked to the front of us all. She wore a black t-shirt that read 'It's Called Cancer, Because We Can Stop It,' which made me roll my eyes. Maybe it was just because of the cancer, but I've been pretty pessimistic since I'd been diagnosed 5 years ago.

"Hello. I'm Mary, and I am a survivor of leukemia. I was diagnosed when I was twenty three, and I finally got rid of it when I was thirty. I've been in remission for 4 years, and I thank God every day for it." She smiled widely at all of us. Can you talk about annoying.

The whole time Mary talked about her experience with cancer. I honestly wanted to smack the smile right off her face. All she did was brag about how great her life has been since she's been in remission. Reality check; everyone else in the room was suffering from cancer at the moment.

As it ended, I got up and began to walk out of the gross, old room. Someone grabbed my hand and spun me around. My breath caught, and I freaked out. A boy- and a fairly cute one, I must say- was smiling at me. In his right hand, he held an oxygen tank, and he had little tubes in his nose.

I moved my hand to my heart, breathing deeply. "Oh my God, I lost my breath there for a second," I said.

He pointed towards his oxygen tank. "I know how that feels. Hi, I'm Austin Moon. Who are you?"

"I'm, uh, Allyson-Ally- Dawson." I watched as he breathed. "You have lung cancer?"

He nodded. "I've had it since I was eight years old. It's been ten years suffering with these shit lungs. I'm used to it." He smiled at me. "You're really pretty."

I looked down at my grey sweat pants and navy vans and let out a loud laugh. No boy has every called me pretty, and a boy like this should never even think about it.

"What are you sick with?" he asked.

"Well, when I was twelve, I was diagnosed with liver cancer, and I lived with that for a few years. Soon afterwards, it spread to my brain and went away in my liver. Usually brain cancer comes from other cancer in your body."

"You're smart."

"Well, I like to be educated on the disease that's spreading throughout my brain. It can be pretty dangerous, as can yours," I held my hand up to my brain. "Sometimes I completely forget things because of it. And as for my other organs, let's just say I've got one of these, too," I tapped on his oxygen tank.

"Never knew so much about brain cancer, Allyson." He grinned at me. "I better get going. My mother would not want me to be late."

"Bye, Austin." Shyly, I waved at him.

"Bye, Allyson." He waved back and walked away.

And that's when I met him. I met the boy who'd change my life. The boy who would make me realize that even on your hardest days, there will always be someone who will be there for you.