I look up at the Eiffel tower, I raise warm coffee to my lips to take a drink, but I do not feel it going down my throat. I don’t think this is strange though, I barely notice. The tower grows larger as I walk through the angel-paved streets and trees smelling almost like my mother’s perfume, sweet and fruity. Little shops I pass by have get-well cards and red balloons. Streets lines with hole in the wall record stores and cafes. Friendly faces look to me and I feel my day grow brighter with every flourishing smile. My tall brown boots splash in a pool from the recent rain and I stare down at my reflection in the mirror like puddle. My gorgeous wavy chestnut hair is healthy, glowing and very long. I remember this happiness. As if I don’t have it now, like it is somewhere close but unreachable. As I still walk closer to the tower I remember im meeting someone there. I cannot remember their face, in my memory it’s just a silhouette.  Two younger girls walk by me in the opposite direction laughing and talking oblivious to the world around them. They don’t see the world the same way I do. They don’t breathe in the beauty of what it takes to make every day different. They don’t see the miracles made everyday by writers, singers, athletes, anyone striving to catch their dreams. They don’t understand yet. But maybe someday they will, or maybe they won’t. No matter, the girls pass and I focus on other things around me. I feel no closer to the tower than before even if I’ve been walking for a while. Up in the apartments I walk past little lights strung on balconies that remind me of the stars I used to watch and count every night wishing for the glimmer of a shooting star.  Seeing one felt like I was some divine being able to see the magic in the world. Then as I grew I realized there wasn’t magic in the world, the world was magic. Everything you see has been created and evolved endlessly to no end still going on now. I stop in my steps and stare at the roses in the field right before the Eiffel Tower. The drops of rain still clung to the blood petals. Slowly dripping down as if they were crying. The silhouette of a person walked up to me, it’s the one I came here for, the one who is always there, crying. I’m puzzled. Wouldn’t she be happy to see me? I then realized the look wasn’t a look of sadness; it was pity and pity tears. I knew that look too well. As her tears hit the ground they created a black puddle and swallowed me up into the darkness. I jump awake in my hospital room and feel a single tear drop from my eye. My cancer medicine gives me very vivid and strange dreams. I wished they were real sometimes; they remind me of the life I wanted. Until I wake up to the life I got. My mother asleep next to my bed smells like perfume and tired. You wouldn’t know tired had a smell till now. I feel so sorry for her; I never meant to get sick. Well no one does, no one wants cancer, but after you get it everyone cares enough to send cards not enough to visit. As if I’m contagious, hah good luck.  The get-well cards and balloons sit in a corner shunned. They don’t encourage my cancer to go away. They just discourage me since I’m not getting better. I’d feel slightly guilty if I rejected them though, so I keep them there. The old crimson roses sit on my windowsill where I keep the blinds open to count the stars. Still hoping for a shooting star to wish on. I always wanted to go to Paris; I hung up pictures of the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre to make my room less dull. I sit and plan out everything I would do there while listening to music or talking to mom. No one else visits much; I couldn’t take their pitiful faces anymore. I won’t lose hope on myself. I’ve lost everything from my chestnut waves of hair, to all my oblivious of the world friends. I can’t even travel outside to see the beauty of life around me. Maybe if I spent more time in the magical world, some magic would absorb into me and heal my soul. Sadly I’m not well enough to try to that out yet. So please don’t take away my dreams, they are what give me hope now. The only way I can see the world through healthy eyes again. Maybe the last time I ever will see the world. Dreams are all I have.