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She was diagnosed when she was 12. Lung cancer. Stage IV.

"So young," they said. "Doesn't deserve this."

As if those who are older deserve it?

Of course, as the best friend, I was one of the first to know, and yet, one of the last. Family first. Me second.

Her mother called mine in tears.

"Anna," she kept repeating. "Our little Anna."

You know in those cheesy movies they say you never really know what you have until you lose it? Well, they're sort of right. It's more like, 'you don't know how much you love someone until you know they're slipping away'.

I was 13, just a year older than her. I should have known then.

I remember the day I came home from school, under the impression that Anna was just sick and couldn't come in that day, and my parents were sitting in the living room.

Now, when you're a child, and you see your mother and father sitting rigidly in your living room, you know something is wrong.

Am I in trouble? Is usually the first thought. Then, you go through everything you did recently in your mind, desperately trying to find something you did that was bad. I took the last cookie, oh no! I forgot my homework the other day! It's horrifying.

I sat down on the arm chair beside the sofa they were on.

"Mama, papa?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's Anna," mama began sadly. "She... sweetie, do you know what 'cancer' is?"
Yes. Or, at least, I thought I did.

"Anna is very sick, sweetie," papa continued. "She... well... she might not make it."

Even then, as reality crashed in and invaded my innocent, perfect little world, I didn't know what cancer was.

Even when I visited my little redhead everyday in the hospital, I thought I knew. I was living in a dreamless, foggy bliss. An illusion created by the hopes of all the cutsie children's movies I grew up on.

The first time I visited her, she'd lost all her hair to chemotherapy.

She blushed when I came in.

"I'm gross," she croaked.

She was so pale. So thin. So ghostly sick-looking I was afraid of touching her. Of being near her. Beneath her dull eyes were deep purple bags.

"No, you're not," I smiled. "You're beautiful."

And she was. Behind her eyes, I could see it. That spark of determination to live. To succeed.

She looked away from me.

They'd told her she was going to be okay. Stupid doctors. When will they learn lying doesn't help at all? It only makes the illusion worse. When a medical professional tells you you're going to be okay, you believe them. Especially when you're only 12.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The first time she came to school after the hospital, she was 14. She spent half a year in the hospital. Half of that time was in the ICU. She spent a whole year getting her hair back.

When it was a decent length, long enough that she could hide her ears and still look feminine, she decided to come back to school.

It was the second time we'd had to be apart for a whole year. The first time was when I went into the middle school and she was stuck in the elementary school. But now, the distance was much greater and so much harder.

I was quiet. I had trouble making friends. Anna was, honestly, the only friend I had. And the mere thought of her being alone with her condition made everything so much worse.

What if something happens to her oxygen tank? What if she falls? What if...

So many questions. So many worries.

Later that day, when we got into her mom's car to go home, she turned to me with a smile and said, "I met a boy."

Four words. Four words ruined me.

Something inside of me tore. I didn't know what at the time – just like I still didn't know what cancer was – but it was horrible nonetheless.

"Hans," she told me. "His name is Hans."

Hans. Hans. Hans is horrible. I hate him.

"Great," I replied. "That's great."

Like the doctors, I was lying. It wasn't great. Hans didn't know how amazing Anna was. He didn't know how to make her happy.

The first time she had her heart broken, she was 15.

"H-He... we... he took my v-virginity... a-and left." She sobbed into my arms.

"Shh," I rocked us back and forth. "It's okay. It's okay."

By this time, we both knew what life was.

It's amazing, really, how reality takes no time in crashing down on people. Some experience Absolute Reality when they're in their mid-thirties. Some, in their twenties. But us... we had to discover it so young.

I was still 15, my birthday only months away, when it happened.

My father died. They said there was a tumor in his brain. There was no way to save him, anyway.

After he died, mama spent days on end out of the house. She'd come home, drunk, crying.

I'd stay home. Also crying.

I'd realized then that life is also an illusion. It's a smaller infinity inside of many infinities. We can only see what we want to see.

That's why man created the idea of God, Heaven, and Hell. To ease our minds and cloud our judgment of those infinities. To make ourselves believe that, after death, we live on.

But, in all actually, all that's left is Oblivion.

Life is just a dive off a cliff. We don't know what's at the bottom. We don't know how we fell off. We just fall. There is no 'uphills' to life, there is only downhill.

When Anna finally stopped weeping over Hans, she'd met a new boy. Kristoff. They kissed once, but she only saw him as a brother.

The first time we kissed, she was 16.

The day before, she stopped breathing. There was fluid in her lungs and she was sent to the hospital.

I was driving by then, and was there in – literally – less than ten minutes. Let's just say I had a few traffic tickets.

Her family had put me down as her sister so I could get in.

I was terrified, then. All I could think of was 'oh god. I never got to tell her.' In those moments, I didn't even know what I didn't get to tell her.

But when her bright blue eyes opened again, it all made sense. Like rubbing the blurry water from your eyes at the pool. Everything is suddenly clear, and you're filled with a sense of Clarity.

"Hey, you," she whispered, her voice raw once again.

"Hey," I smiled softly, sitting in the chair beside her bed.

"We'll go down into the lobby for some coffee," her mother said, pulling her father out of the room.

They knew my new found feelings of Clarity and Absolute Reality before even I did.

"Anna, how much do you love me?" I asked one day.

"To the stars and back, why?" She replied.

"Well..." I shuffled my feet nervously.

My throat clenched, my heart raced, I probably looked like a mess.

"Because," I finally continued. "Because I love you... a lot."

"How much?" She playfully quirked an eyebrow. She then frowned, realizing how serious I was.

"Through this infinity to the next," I finally murmured.

A long silence flowed between us, then. All I could hear was the quiet hum of her oxygen tank and her careful breathing.

"Elsa," she finally spoke. "What do you mean?"

"I'm in love with you." I averted my icy blue eyes away from her teal gaze. "I... I didn't know until now. Well, not now now. I mean." I clenched my eyes shut, trying desperately to find the right words in my scrambled thoughts. "The night you came here. I was so worried and... and I mean... I just realized that... you're my entire world."

Those, honestly, weren't very good words. She wasn't just my world. A world is just a collapsing ball of gas, ready to implode at any moment.

No... Anna was not just my world.

Anna was my sun. She was my moon. She was my stars in the skies, my flower in winter. She was my universe. My infinity upon infinities.

"Oh, Elsa," she whispered.

When I looked up, she was reaching her hand out to me. I let her take my wrist and lead me over to her bedside.

Her lips collided with mine.

Cheesy romance novels would say that your first kiss is the most wonderful thing. However, I cannot say that it's the most wonderful.

It was definitely a cherishable moment that I will keep living on in my infinity. But every moment after that could be considered the most wonderful things I will experience.

The first time we went out, it was a month later.

We had finally allowed ourselves to enjoy the simple pleasure of each others company.

Just being with her, holding her hand, feeling her warmth, was enough for me. However, Anna was a princess in my eyes and should be treated as such.

We went out to dinner. The place was French, and my mother prepaid for everything using the family business's money, so we didn't worry about prices.

"Elsa," Anna gasped as we walked inside. "This place... it's so expensive! Are you sure you can afford it?"

"Don't worry about it," I replied, grinning as I carried her oxygen tank.

She wore a tight green dress with gold ivy along the sides, going up and up and up to her stomach, breasts, and neck. Her heels were black and made her as tall as me without heels.

I wore a skin-tight icy blue dress with silver snowflakes on the neckline.

When we were at our table, a glass of wine for each of us, Anna sent me an adoring grin.

"Anna, you look beautiful." I gushed.

"You look beautifuller!" She suddenly blushed. "I mean, not fuller, I mean, you don't look fuller but I mean – more beautiful."

I chuckled softly and reached for her hand on the table. "Thank you."

"So..." She pushed some of her copper-colored hair behind her ear.

"So..." I repeated.

We both giggled.

That night, we shared our opinions on Oblivion. She said she wanted to believe something happens when we die. I said I'd rather not know.

The funny thing is, I can't even say I fell in love with her that night. I fell in love with her long ago. But realizing it was just as magical.

The first time I ended up at the ICU, she was there waiting for me when I woke up.

Stage IV blood cancer. I didn't have long.

After chemotherapy, Anna was at my bedside day after day. I was violently sick, though.

"I'm disgusting." I sobbed when she came in to see me for the first time.

"No," she took my hand in her own. "You're beautiful."

It was a cruel irony that we'd both develop such a serious illness. No, I cannot say they were the same illness. Just merely branches of one illness.

It was cruel to have to wonder who would go first.

It was cruel to have her end up in the bed beside mine.

It was cruel to have her so violently ill that we both cried ourselves to sleep every night.

Life is cruel.

It wasn't until then I truly realized what cancer was.

As a 17 year old, it is also cruel to have such a weight on your shoulders. To know that you are going to die. You are going to die before your parents. You are going to die before a younger sibling.

But I did know.

Cancer is not an illness. It is a small infinity in a greater infinity. My life is a part of that infinity, and so was Anna's. One day, we'll all be gone. Human beings will die off. That, too, is just another infinity.

Cancer just speeds up your falling off the cliff of life. It's like a rock tied to your ankles and wrists. And suddenly, you can swear you almost see the bottom of that cliff.

The first time we said "Goodbye", I was not prepared. You'd think after a whole life time of knowing our time together was limited, I'd be more prepared for this.

But when Anna's mother called and told me that Anna was on the brink of death, I broke down.

She couldn't leave me. This wasn't fair. We only had two years. Two years. 730 days. 17520 hours. All that time together, and it wasn't enough.

I drove to the hospital, still hiccuping, and rushed inside.

I swear I've never ran so fast in my life.

"Anna!" I sobbed as I grasped her hand in my own.

Her eyes were dull. Purple bags sat beneath them. She was pale and weak. She looked so frail.

I did not want to cry. I wanted to seem strong for her. But I couldn't. Once again, I broke down.

"Shh," she soothed, rubbing my shaking back. "It's okay."

No. No no no. It's not okay.

"Anna, please... you can't go." I cried.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "So, so sorry."

I told her then that she was my infinity. She replied "Some infinities have to end."

Anna died that night. Peacefully.

Her funeral was quiet. Nobody even knew how to react.

"Anna was so happy," they cooed. "So full of life."

Bullshit.

Her body was full of death. She was dying, for Christ's sake! Absolutely none of her was 'full of life' because she was dying.

Dying, I've decided, is a side-effect of living. We do not live to love, or to collect wealth. No, we live to die.

What is the purpose of life? Death.

The last time I laid a rose on her stone, I broke down again.

The rose was purple. I laid several on her stone since she died. Every day for two years, I left one. Always red.

But today was purple.

It was her favorite color.

I used to laugh at shows and movies and books that said you only have one destined soulmate for your entire life. Now, I laugh at my younger naïve self.

You can fall in love as many times as you want. You can convince yourself that one person is your Person.

But, in actuality, when you meet them, you'll know. Maybe not even right away. But sooner or later, you know it.

I guess if I knew it would be my last time, I'd choose another color. But purple is good.

But that's the thing. You never know when you're going to die.

Like a book, you just end.

But I guess that's the meaning of life.

When the time comes, it's okay to

The End