I cannot remember things easily now. It has only been a month (or so I'm told, I can't really remember) since my diagnosis but my brain is deteriorating and fast. I'm not allowed to drive anymore, but some days I go over to Isaac's. There is something missing from there and I can't exactly pinpoint what it is. My lungs are so very heavy and there is nothing I can do to relieve them of the strain. My oxygen tank is trying its hardest to keep me alive.

The back garden has become a familiar haunt of mine. I sit outside, with my head up in the clouds. I watch the birds that fly with grace, wishing I was up there with them. I wonder how it feels to be able to fly; to feel the wind against you and to look down on the world. If anything, I'd like to live on a cloud. That looks enjoyable. Someone once told me that in the clouds, wind blows at one hundred and fifty miles per hour, the temperature is thirty below zero and there is no oxygen meaning you would surely die if you were to go there. I'm going to die anyway but at least I could have the sight of earth as my last. I think it was Augustus who told me that. I wonder if the Something he believed in is up the clouds. What does oxygen or wind or temperature matter when you're simply a spirit?

I'm pretty sure there was a swing set at bottom of the garden. I'm not sure of anything nowadays.

It has become difficult to remember what Augustus looked like. I can see a vague outline of the boy I loved. Cancer kills everything; I feel an unquenchable hatred towards it. I can't stop imagining this monstrous tumour attached to my brain, feasting on each part. However it cannot steal my love for Augustus. I have that one picture of him on my phone, which is the only reminder of just how incredible he was; in appearance and mind. He has an unlit cigarette in his mouth, his smile deliciously crooked, and is holding a mostly empty pink egg carton above his head. His other hand is draped around Isaac's shoulder whose sunglasses are turned not quite toward the camera.

Days merge into one another and I have lost track of time. I think a second month has passed.

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping, and sunlight streaming through my window. My lungs feel light, almost normal. I feel like fighting and breathing and living. I call for my mom who comes running from the kitchen

"Morning, Hazel. How are you feeling?" She pops her head in the door

"I feel good, almost healthy. What date is it?"

She pauses then, reluctant to answer but does anyway: "It's been a year since Augustus died, sweetie. I'm not sure if you would like to visit him or not."

At the mention of his name, my heart speeds up and I know I have to go. It's what Augustus would've wanted. "Yes I'd like to visit him. Would you take me?"

Augustus's grave is not so new anymore. The earth has moulded back into shape and the granite headstone stands proud, inscribed with:

'Augustus Waters.

Beloved Son, Brother, Friend.

Without Pain, How Could We Know Joy?'

I kneel down at the end of his plot, the oxygen tank my only companion. I want to say something, break the silence like Augustus would. My hands slide through the grass, tugging at random parts.

"Augustus, how I miss you. When I think of my life, I think of you automatically. I think of your crooked walk that was paired with your crooked smile. I always liked your goofy smile better; the one that was too big for your face but perfect to me. I think of myself as a grenade, but you were also one too. When you died, little pieces of yourself went flying into the people around you. I am left with your love and your metaphorical cigarettes. I don't believe in an afterlife or even the Something that you do but I hope to maybe see you once I've died, even for a minute. This cancer. It's eating my brain and my lungs and there's nothing I can do. My days are numbered and they are running out quickly but you once gave me a forever within those days. I'll be seeing you soon. I can only hope this time the forever does last. Okay?" I kiss my hand and place it on his gravestone before I leave. I can just imagine Augustus's disappointment at not receiving a real one. Augustus if you can hear me, I think, just wait a little longer. You'll get your kiss.

This was my Last Good Day.