Disclaimer: I do not own Mimi or anyone she mentions, they belong to Jonathan Larson.
A/N: One-Shot Fic. I decided after Mark's One Shot And I'm Alone, that I would make a couple of these.
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
The most important lesson I've learned in my twenty-something years of life is this. Life is only what you make it. It doesn't matter if you're sick or if you're healthy. It sure as hell doesn't matter if you're rich or poor. What matters is how you make use of your life. Whether you decide to spend it watching each moment carefully or being spontaneous, that's what matters. I was seventeen when I was diagnosed HIV positive. Seventeen...I was still a child then. In ways I'm still a child now. The circumstances leading up to that diagnosis no longer matter, but to put it bluntly, I thought I knew what it was to live. I believed that in order to have a life in which every single dream and fantasy comes true you had to leave reality for a while. Drugs helped with that. I never dreamed that I would become a druggie, or a stripper. What kind of person would? No when I was a child I had big dreams for me. I wanted to dance, I wanted to move my feet and never stop, I wanted the world to know and love Mimi Marqueze. As the years grew I stopped dreaming. My mind was dulled and I become what most would say "worthless trash." I wasn't though, I was never worthless. I loved people and I loved life, I just happened to love my vices a little too much as well. Who the fuck cares anyway? After sixteen years I realized I wasn't going to make that big impact on the world, so why did it matter to those what I did with my life. I left my home shouting words something along the lines of "You don't understand! You never will!" Typical teenage shit-talk, I was one bridge of emotions, and I was breaking quickly. Life turned downhill after that, though in my state of mind it kept rising. I was in perpetual ecstasy. What did I care about the possibility of AIDS? That happens to your neighbor's friend's sister's brother's aunt...twice removed of course. Well at the ripe age of seventeen I had my death sentence in hand, but I didn't see it that way. Everyone dies eventually, I was just going to die earlier than many people. Part of it was denial as well. As long as one refuses to admit to themselves the inevitable, it won't happen.
One day my entire life changed. I was living in a shit shack apartment when my landlord and ex-boyfriend decided to cut off my heat. I think part of it was out of spite, but I must admit, I simply couldn't pay the rent. I was nineteen when I met him. Him being Roger Davis. I remember every single moment of that night, as well as the nights to follow. He pushed me away at first, even stole my stash. I remember thinking he was a fucking asshole for touching my stash. In the end I knew he was doing it for the right reasons, at that time, the reasons didn't matter. I wanted a hit, and I wanted it then. Turns out Roger had AIDS too, ironic how life is. Just when you're supposed to wish that you're dead and gone, that your life has been decided, it sends you a curveball and in my case a fantastic one. We eventually separated not too long after we got together. My health was deteriorating, as it is now. He ran. He left me, and I was left with nothing but the flimsy support of Mark and Benny. Well hoop-de-rah. It was when he left me that for the first time I felt like I was dying. It was when he said "Good bye" that nothing made sense anymore. Here I was, a nineteen year old "dancer" with nothing but plenty of track marks and fishnet hose. I asked to go to a clinic, I needed something, anything to take my mind away from him. It broke my heart when I lost Angel, but losing Roger on top of that was a breaking point for me. Everywhere I went I heard his voice, his music, I saw his smile. He rarely smiled. It was because of April, his first love. He saw her death, and to be honest, I'm sure if I found someone I loved swimming in their own blood I wouldn't smile either.
As I said, the brilliant clinic idea didn't last long. I felt that I was losing control, when all along, I had already lost it. I found my solace in men, in more drugs, and in the streets. Summer came and went and I soon found myself knee high in snow. I tried to hold on for so long, I had this preconceived notion that if I just waited until Roger came back all would be wonderful again. I had long forgotten my words that I so often lived by and stopped living in "today" and spent my days in "yesterday." I finally gave up. What was the point anymore? Did it all come to this? To this one moment in life where I was to die alone? I passed out in the snow, the cold had long frozen the blood in my veins. It was then Maureen and Joanne found me. Apparently they brought me back to the shit shack loft where I was able to look in Roger's eyes for one last time. He sang to me as I slipped away, and I felt a peace wash over me. Apparently life had other plans for me, Angel was sent to shoo me away from the tunnel and I woke up to Roger's tears. I remember explaining everything to them, but the memory that stands out the most in my mind, the picture I have long held onto was that of Roger's smile. For the first time he smiled at me with no fear. He had come to grips with his own demons and allowed me back in.
That was a little over four months ago. It's amazing how fast the days go by. And when all is said and done, and you go back to count them, you realize, it really was never enough. After my near death experience Roger and I spent as much time as we could together knowing the inevitable was soon to come. We both knew I'd be the first to go, and I wonder who will be the next. I'm in a bed right now. Not a hospital bed, I made Roger swear to me that no matter how bad it gets I won't go to the hospital. I wanted to spend my last days walking, not lying on an uncomfortable mattress waiting for death to finally suck me dry. It hurts so much sometimes I just want to scream. I cry when I think no one is around, and I pray that neither Roger nor Collins feel this pain when there time comes. It's crazy how a girl who spent her life wallowing in vices can all of a sudden pray. I'm not godly, but it helps to know that there is something waiting for me. That Angel, my and Collins's Angel is waiting for us. My hands are shaking now, and my breath is slow and shallow. I stopped looking in the mirror about a month ago when I found my hair falling out. My skin feels like a corpse, so I can only imagine how gruesome I look. My skin is torn, it bleeds a lot. Yet Roger still tells me I'm beautiful. He still touches me, smiles at me, he still brushes his lips against mine and caresses my cheek. So this is love?
How many times in my years did I hope for someone to find me that would take me no matter what? Hundreds even thousands. And I know now that love is never late, it's always right on time. Because even though I know I won't last another week or day, I have never been happier. I sleep more, but my dreams are filled with him and his damn guitar. And when I'm awake, he's right by my bedside. He doesn't always talk, and I thank him for that, there isn't anything to say.
Today however we did talk, and it broke my heart. He woke up on the cot next to the bed and brought me breakfast, he helped me sit against the headboard and guided my hand that held my spoon to my mouth, careful not to harm me. I looked at him and he smiled, and I knew then I had to tell him what I feared. In a summary, this was the conversation.
"Roger, I want to say some things to you, and I need you to listen." He nodded, encouraging me to continue. "I'm not going to last much longer, we both know this. But at the moment you're healthy as you could be. You have years ahead of you. My biggest regret is this, that I won't spend those years with you. That I'll no longer listen to you silently sing and pluck at the guitar strings. That I won't see you, and that I'll never again feel your touch. But I have a favor to ask. Once I'm gone. Please love again. I know after April's death you questioned whether that was possible, and I think we've proved that it is. But I couldn't bear to know that I left you alone, when I die, I want you to find someone to love. Someone who will take care of you as you have me. Someone who will be able to look past the exterior of a deteriorating body and see the heart and soul of a healthy man. I hate that my body is ready to give out when my mind still wants to be here with you. So fulfill my dreams and live your life in ways that I couldn't live mine. Follow your dreams, and conquer the demons I couldn't slay. Roger, I love you so much, and every day with you has been more than I could have ever imagined. You're one of a kind, please let someone else see that in you."
I stopped many times, and the tears were uncontrolled. He placed his head in my lap and I stoked his hair for the last time. I held his face between my hands and stared at into his eyes, the things I had loved since I first met him. I'm not going to wake up tomorrow. I know that now, and I've come to grips with it. But oh god, I'm going to miss Roger so damn much. Please, just understand this, life is what you make it, you can't take back what you've started, you can't cement over your mistakes and failures. And love, no matter when it comes, is never too late. Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? The answer is no. But the nightmare has definitely ended for me.
My Dearest Roger,
I wrote this while you slept by my side for the first time in weeks tonight. I understand why you chose to give me the bed, but thank you for being with me tonight. I know I have often made things for you unbearable. I know our beginnings were full of heartache and loss. I know Angel's death impacted us all, and I secretly wonder how my death will impact you, Collins, Mark, Maureen, and Joanne. I hope you've finally grasped what I've said to you since the beginning. That there is no day but today. I love you. I love you in so many ways not even I could name them. There are so many things I want to thank you for, but most importantly, for giving me part of your heart. I was a screw up much of the time, and a pain in the ass. And well, sometimes you were too. But it doesn't matter five minutes afterwards. Nothing does, except for this. Us. You and I. I hope to god you listened to me earlier. Roger, nothing would break my heart more than to know you gave up. Please live. For you, for us. My hand is growing weaker now, and I feel the lull of sleep. You are wonderful, nothing will ever change that.
I will love you till eternity ends,
Mimi.
A/N: One-Shot Fic. I decided after Mark's One Shot And I'm Alone, that I would make a couple of these.
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
The most important lesson I've learned in my twenty-something years of life is this. Life is only what you make it. It doesn't matter if you're sick or if you're healthy. It sure as hell doesn't matter if you're rich or poor. What matters is how you make use of your life. Whether you decide to spend it watching each moment carefully or being spontaneous, that's what matters. I was seventeen when I was diagnosed HIV positive. Seventeen...I was still a child then. In ways I'm still a child now. The circumstances leading up to that diagnosis no longer matter, but to put it bluntly, I thought I knew what it was to live. I believed that in order to have a life in which every single dream and fantasy comes true you had to leave reality for a while. Drugs helped with that. I never dreamed that I would become a druggie, or a stripper. What kind of person would? No when I was a child I had big dreams for me. I wanted to dance, I wanted to move my feet and never stop, I wanted the world to know and love Mimi Marqueze. As the years grew I stopped dreaming. My mind was dulled and I become what most would say "worthless trash." I wasn't though, I was never worthless. I loved people and I loved life, I just happened to love my vices a little too much as well. Who the fuck cares anyway? After sixteen years I realized I wasn't going to make that big impact on the world, so why did it matter to those what I did with my life. I left my home shouting words something along the lines of "You don't understand! You never will!" Typical teenage shit-talk, I was one bridge of emotions, and I was breaking quickly. Life turned downhill after that, though in my state of mind it kept rising. I was in perpetual ecstasy. What did I care about the possibility of AIDS? That happens to your neighbor's friend's sister's brother's aunt...twice removed of course. Well at the ripe age of seventeen I had my death sentence in hand, but I didn't see it that way. Everyone dies eventually, I was just going to die earlier than many people. Part of it was denial as well. As long as one refuses to admit to themselves the inevitable, it won't happen.
One day my entire life changed. I was living in a shit shack apartment when my landlord and ex-boyfriend decided to cut off my heat. I think part of it was out of spite, but I must admit, I simply couldn't pay the rent. I was nineteen when I met him. Him being Roger Davis. I remember every single moment of that night, as well as the nights to follow. He pushed me away at first, even stole my stash. I remember thinking he was a fucking asshole for touching my stash. In the end I knew he was doing it for the right reasons, at that time, the reasons didn't matter. I wanted a hit, and I wanted it then. Turns out Roger had AIDS too, ironic how life is. Just when you're supposed to wish that you're dead and gone, that your life has been decided, it sends you a curveball and in my case a fantastic one. We eventually separated not too long after we got together. My health was deteriorating, as it is now. He ran. He left me, and I was left with nothing but the flimsy support of Mark and Benny. Well hoop-de-rah. It was when he left me that for the first time I felt like I was dying. It was when he said "Good bye" that nothing made sense anymore. Here I was, a nineteen year old "dancer" with nothing but plenty of track marks and fishnet hose. I asked to go to a clinic, I needed something, anything to take my mind away from him. It broke my heart when I lost Angel, but losing Roger on top of that was a breaking point for me. Everywhere I went I heard his voice, his music, I saw his smile. He rarely smiled. It was because of April, his first love. He saw her death, and to be honest, I'm sure if I found someone I loved swimming in their own blood I wouldn't smile either.
As I said, the brilliant clinic idea didn't last long. I felt that I was losing control, when all along, I had already lost it. I found my solace in men, in more drugs, and in the streets. Summer came and went and I soon found myself knee high in snow. I tried to hold on for so long, I had this preconceived notion that if I just waited until Roger came back all would be wonderful again. I had long forgotten my words that I so often lived by and stopped living in "today" and spent my days in "yesterday." I finally gave up. What was the point anymore? Did it all come to this? To this one moment in life where I was to die alone? I passed out in the snow, the cold had long frozen the blood in my veins. It was then Maureen and Joanne found me. Apparently they brought me back to the shit shack loft where I was able to look in Roger's eyes for one last time. He sang to me as I slipped away, and I felt a peace wash over me. Apparently life had other plans for me, Angel was sent to shoo me away from the tunnel and I woke up to Roger's tears. I remember explaining everything to them, but the memory that stands out the most in my mind, the picture I have long held onto was that of Roger's smile. For the first time he smiled at me with no fear. He had come to grips with his own demons and allowed me back in.
That was a little over four months ago. It's amazing how fast the days go by. And when all is said and done, and you go back to count them, you realize, it really was never enough. After my near death experience Roger and I spent as much time as we could together knowing the inevitable was soon to come. We both knew I'd be the first to go, and I wonder who will be the next. I'm in a bed right now. Not a hospital bed, I made Roger swear to me that no matter how bad it gets I won't go to the hospital. I wanted to spend my last days walking, not lying on an uncomfortable mattress waiting for death to finally suck me dry. It hurts so much sometimes I just want to scream. I cry when I think no one is around, and I pray that neither Roger nor Collins feel this pain when there time comes. It's crazy how a girl who spent her life wallowing in vices can all of a sudden pray. I'm not godly, but it helps to know that there is something waiting for me. That Angel, my and Collins's Angel is waiting for us. My hands are shaking now, and my breath is slow and shallow. I stopped looking in the mirror about a month ago when I found my hair falling out. My skin feels like a corpse, so I can only imagine how gruesome I look. My skin is torn, it bleeds a lot. Yet Roger still tells me I'm beautiful. He still touches me, smiles at me, he still brushes his lips against mine and caresses my cheek. So this is love?
How many times in my years did I hope for someone to find me that would take me no matter what? Hundreds even thousands. And I know now that love is never late, it's always right on time. Because even though I know I won't last another week or day, I have never been happier. I sleep more, but my dreams are filled with him and his damn guitar. And when I'm awake, he's right by my bedside. He doesn't always talk, and I thank him for that, there isn't anything to say.
Today however we did talk, and it broke my heart. He woke up on the cot next to the bed and brought me breakfast, he helped me sit against the headboard and guided my hand that held my spoon to my mouth, careful not to harm me. I looked at him and he smiled, and I knew then I had to tell him what I feared. In a summary, this was the conversation.
"Roger, I want to say some things to you, and I need you to listen." He nodded, encouraging me to continue. "I'm not going to last much longer, we both know this. But at the moment you're healthy as you could be. You have years ahead of you. My biggest regret is this, that I won't spend those years with you. That I'll no longer listen to you silently sing and pluck at the guitar strings. That I won't see you, and that I'll never again feel your touch. But I have a favor to ask. Once I'm gone. Please love again. I know after April's death you questioned whether that was possible, and I think we've proved that it is. But I couldn't bear to know that I left you alone, when I die, I want you to find someone to love. Someone who will take care of you as you have me. Someone who will be able to look past the exterior of a deteriorating body and see the heart and soul of a healthy man. I hate that my body is ready to give out when my mind still wants to be here with you. So fulfill my dreams and live your life in ways that I couldn't live mine. Follow your dreams, and conquer the demons I couldn't slay. Roger, I love you so much, and every day with you has been more than I could have ever imagined. You're one of a kind, please let someone else see that in you."
I stopped many times, and the tears were uncontrolled. He placed his head in my lap and I stoked his hair for the last time. I held his face between my hands and stared at into his eyes, the things I had loved since I first met him. I'm not going to wake up tomorrow. I know that now, and I've come to grips with it. But oh god, I'm going to miss Roger so damn much. Please, just understand this, life is what you make it, you can't take back what you've started, you can't cement over your mistakes and failures. And love, no matter when it comes, is never too late. Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? The answer is no. But the nightmare has definitely ended for me.
My Dearest Roger,
I wrote this while you slept by my side for the first time in weeks tonight. I understand why you chose to give me the bed, but thank you for being with me tonight. I know I have often made things for you unbearable. I know our beginnings were full of heartache and loss. I know Angel's death impacted us all, and I secretly wonder how my death will impact you, Collins, Mark, Maureen, and Joanne. I hope you've finally grasped what I've said to you since the beginning. That there is no day but today. I love you. I love you in so many ways not even I could name them. There are so many things I want to thank you for, but most importantly, for giving me part of your heart. I was a screw up much of the time, and a pain in the ass. And well, sometimes you were too. But it doesn't matter five minutes afterwards. Nothing does, except for this. Us. You and I. I hope to god you listened to me earlier. Roger, nothing would break my heart more than to know you gave up. Please live. For you, for us. My hand is growing weaker now, and I feel the lull of sleep. You are wonderful, nothing will ever change that.
I will love you till eternity ends,
Mimi.