I was in the middle of my leg workout, trying to keep my mind off everything, when someone in the chat asked about my family. I paused, wiped the sweat from my face, and said it plainly: my dad has brain cancer. My brother has lung, liver, and colon cancer. The words hung in the air, and I could feel the weight of them pressing down on me.
I’ve been pushing myself harder than ever because I need to stay strong. I need to be able to take care of them. That’s why I’m here, lifting weights that used to feel light but now feel like mountains. I’m only on 5 kilos for my legs, and that’s all they can handle right now.
But I keep going. Someone asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, but the truth is, I feel guilty sometimes. Guilty for accepting subs and donations when I wonder if there’s a more worthy cause.
But I keep doing my best, trying to volunteer while my body still allows it. I took a break when my dad got sick, but the charity understood. They said they’d wait for me. I volunteer for a charity that screens for breast and cervical cancer.
Last year, we treated over 250 people for early signs of cysts and other issues. I was supposed to bring my community to the outreach, but I broke my arm in February and couldn’t go. My aunt had breast cancer too. Cancer sucks.
I think the world would be a safer place if we could find a cure. I tried to lighten the mood. I joked about my horse being my boyfriend, an inside joke that made people laugh. I promised to feed him carrots later because I didn’t give him any yesterday.
I laughed at the hamster in the chat, saying it was so cute it made me laugh every time I saw it. I even joked about the Minions stealing the moon, saying they saw the pink moon and wanted to make it yellow again. But the laughter didn’t last. I moved to the next machine, pushing myself to 35 kilos, then 42.
5, then 45. My body screamed in protest. I tried 50 and failed, nearly hurting myself. I had to back down, increase by 2.
5 instead. I couldn’t walk afterward. I was dead. But I kept going.
Someone asked if I won any slots for the LA Olympics. I laughed it off. I’m not that kind of athlete. I’m just trying to survive, to stay fit enough to take care of my family.
I mentioned my goal: 1,000 paper cranes. I’m trying to fold them, and I’ve got 53 from Fatalist Squad and Black Hearts, plus some from family. I’m going to post a reel or TikTok to show people how to fold them, because I need help. I need to reach 1,000.
I don’t know why, but it feels important. It feels like something I can control. I looked at the camera, exhausted, and said, “I’ll teach you how to make these. I just need some help.
” I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. I was still thinking about my dad, my brother, and the weight I carry every day.
