All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Unwritten
"Sara, dinner." my mom yelled to me.
"I walked down the carpeted steps and slid across the wooden floor into the dining room.
"What are we having?"
"Spaghetti, garlic bread and milk."
"Yum."
"You don't sound excited."
"Excited? Why would I be excited? It's just dinner"
"Yes, but a dinner you love." my dad chimed in.
"Ok, this attitude of yours needs to stop." my mom bargen again.
"What attitude? I can't help myself that I am about to die. Of course I am going to have an attitude."
"Sweetie, you're not dying."
"Not dying?!" I exclaimed. "How am I not dying?! The doctor said I have two months to live!"
Woah, woah, woah, wait. I know what you're thinking. Why would a 16 year old girl be dying? Well, let me answer that. I have thyroid cancer. It has spread to my lungs and I have breathing troubles. They say I might die soon because the fluid backs up in my lungs. Anyways, back to the story,
"Sara, you're not dying, you're just leaving early according to the doctors." my dad spoke up.
"That's it." I said and ran up to my room.
"Sara!" I heard my dad's yell follow.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door shut. I grabbed my phone and headphones and I just sat on my bed listening to music. The thoughts of dying scared the living crap out of me. I didn't always think of it but when I did I had anxiety attacks. I would shake, I couldn't grab anything, I would start breathing heavy. It just overwhelmed me.
My door opened just a crack. "Sara, sweetie." It was my mom.
"What do you want?"
"Are you okay?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because, I say that I'm dying and you two make a big fuss about it. I'm sick and tired of this."
"Okay, well I'll leave you alone. Your dinner is in the - "
But my headphones were already in my ears and my music was turned up so loud, I couldn't hear her. I felt bad about ignoring my mom but it is what it is.
(The next day)
I woke up. The sun shining gleamingly through the thin lines of my blines, reflecting beautifuly off my olive green walls. I climbed out of my king sized bed and limped to the bathroom. Oh, beautiful you. I thought to myself. I turned on the light and brushed out my hair. I walked back into my room and started to undress. I walked back to the bathroom and got in the shower.
After a nice, warm relaxing shower, I started to get ready for school. I through on the PINK sweatshirt I had gotten for Christmas last year. It was turqiouse and it started PINK on the front in cheetah letters. I threw on some skinny jeans and pulled on some socks, following my white, dirty Converse. I slipped a beanie on my head, covering up my hair and threw my backpack over my shoulder. I walked downstairs just in time for breakfast as I smelled eggs and heard the sizzle of bacon.
"Good morning, dear" my mom told me.
"Good morning" I replied and looked at the clock.
7:56am
"Mom, hurry up. I'll be late." I told her.
"You'll be fine."
I walked to the mirror hanging in the hall and looked at myself. The sweatshirt to cover up scars. The beanie to cover up my scrawny, half head of hair. You sure are something. I thought to myself.
"Breakfast." my mom spoke.
I walked out of the hall and sat down on the barstool on the counter and my mom slid the plate across the cold, marble countertop.
"Thanks, Mom"
"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie"
After about 10 minutes of breakfast, I finished. I scraped my remains into the trash and slid my backpack over my shoulder once again.
"Well, I'm off to school." I said trying to rush out the door.
"Did you take your pills?"
"No."
"You know to take those, or your lungs will start to fill up with water."
"Yeah, yeah I know."
I took the three pills and followed them with water.
"Now I'm off to school."
"Okay, sweetie, have a good day, love you."
"Love you too."
I walked out to see my silver Lexus in the driveway. I looked in the reflection of the window realizing my story is still unwritten.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 1 comment.
9 articles 0 photos 13 comments
Favorite Quote:
"Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and to be free from it." -Veronica Roth