Today my mother cell split in two, and I came to life. You might have expected some kind of celebration for my arrival, but alas no. Most cells just continued with their daily tasks of proliferating (a disgusting process where they start growing until they look like they might explode, and then actually cut them-selves in half, and become two. Ugh!), or scavenging for rogue oxygen molecules (food is always scarce for us law-breakers). I was just one amongst a crowd of ugly looking cancer cells. Even my other-half (literally) decided to abandon me: after giving me the once-over, she decided it wasn’t wise for us to remain in close proximity or someone might notice we were wearing the same membrane (the human equivalent of wearing the same top). Unfortunately, as we are still a so called 'benign tumor' (i.e. all of us tumor cells have to remain clumped together into one unwanted blob), all my other-half could do was struggle to detach her-self from me only to finally give up, turn the other way, and pretend I was invisible.
All in all, it wasn’t a great first hour of my life. It’s hard to feel special when you are surrounded by identical copies of you. They told me one day (as in tomorrow) I would have to grow and proliferate too (I shudder at the mere thought). They told me that proliferating was my purpose as a tumor cell…but I longed for a difference type of existence. And so I took matters into my own (metaphorical) hands, and decided to take the message from the cartoon ‘Ratatouille’ literally: anyone can cook. Ok. Mostly I took the ‘anyone can’ bit and added ‘blog’ instead of ‘cook’, but two out of three words is good enough. So here I am, and here I will be, relaying the adventures of my simple existence as I…grow?
May I have found the key to individualism: may I be the first cancer cell to blog.