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Sharanya Sharma

Drama Inspirational


4.7  

Sharanya Sharma

Drama Inspirational


Bellatrix

Bellatrix

8 mins 300 8 mins 300

"Hey, diary. My condition is worsening every day, and the doctors say that I have no hope of making it out alive after the surgery, due a week. I don't even know why am I writing anymore, it's not gonna make it anything better. I have nothing left to live for, no hopes or dreams. Am the scattered dust in the wind, alive yet unliving. My mind echoes with the thought of self-torture and my heart aches. Am that broken piece of a birdcage, a lost song without rhythm. Melancholy is all I feel, and incoherence has become all too familiar. These four hospital walls have become my refuge, my sanctuary. Today am going, tomorrow, am gone. " -I hastily shove my diary under the pillow as mum makes her way in. "Hey sunshine. The doctors say that your condition has been improving, gradually and due to the meds, you will be operation ready in no time, " mum enthusiastically chides, and I almost believe her.


"Mum, there is no need for false hope, I know that this cancer will eventually manifest my body, and I will have to bade farewell someday. Am ready mom, trust me, I am. "       

  "Honey, no. You are not going to be so given up, you are going to make it through, and this bewitching world is yours to conquer. Anyways sunshine, am going to fill in some forms and I'll see you when your over that wreckage and destruction in your head, " And with that, she shuffles out the room. 


  Your probably wondering, who am I? What sense does this make? What is my story and why have I given up in life at the age of 17? My name is Brianna. My dad died when I was 6, and my brother has never really been himself after that. My mom works as a cook, and I got diagnosed with cancer at the age of 14, too young right? My life has only been revolving around different hospitals and treatments for the past 3 years, and my condition hasn't improved a pinch. Thanks to my mom, I haven't had time to give up. She's shuffling around and hastily booking appointments with expert doctors to figure if I'll ever be healed. A surgery, due next week, if my body is strong enough, I survive, otherwise, I'll cease to exist. 


  The rest of the day went by in a blur. I did my work, organized my room and read "afterlife". I even watched some YouTube videos and went through my old album, a compilation of happy moments, erratically, just gone. As night drew, I started feeling. Thinking. Tomorrow is the day my report comes out, whether my body can handle the pain of the surgery or no. What if I don't survive? What if this analytical body experimentation costs my life? I never get to see the alluring seas, or skies and the alarming pain that is caused by love? I guess this much of negativity is enough for me to behold. My eyelids droop down, and I eventually get carried away to a land far beyond. 


    "Today is the day. I get my reports and am going to be just fine. I'll make it through. "       "Brianna Walters? Here is your report. Your charts have been continuously falling and am sorry to say, there is no positive news. Your body can't seem to cope up with the meds and you are at great risk. The only way to save you is to pre-pone our surgery to the day-after-tomorrow evening, and God's grace, if you are saved, " with this, the doctor walks out. Am traumatized. What do I do? Can't cope up? Risk of dying? Pre-poned surgery to the day-after-tomorrow? How? Why? Am not ready yet. I slam the door of my room shut and drop to the floor. Tears start streaming out of my eyes and my whole body is shivering. I can't handle this pain. I walk up to the shelf, I swore I wouldn't ever do this to myself, it's inviting my death closer.


Nevertheless, I am broke. I open the shelf and take out a huge bottle of Bourbon, pure alcohol and chuck it down my throat. It feels on fire. Every muscle in the body wants me to stop, as I crash down to the floor. Every bone in my body pleads me to stop, but I continue to drink up the half bottle, until my body gives way. My head crashes down to the floor and nostalgia hits me. I imagine every good memory, the waterparks with my dad, the sleepovers with my buddies. Every water balloon fight and every death stare I have given my brother for stealing the last pizza slice. It all comes rushing to the surface, like a wound been sliced open, and the last thing I remember was an abyss of darkness, with which I black out.


Sunshine? Open your eyes, " I can hear a faint sound bellowing from somewhere. I slowly open my eyes and I can see the outline of a figure, rather blur. I mutter something and I realize that it's mom. "Hey mom. What are you doing here? " I ask. " Honey, you blacked out last night. A broken bottle of Bourbon was found beside your unconscious body, and your hand was bleeding due to the glass embedded in your arm. What is it that brought you so much pain that you willingly invited death closer? ", she questioned, slight ease and politeness in her voice. " Mum, I can't live. I don't wanna live anymore, I wanna die. Grant me that wish. Help me leave this world and live at peace, in afterlife. ", I respond. With that, without a response, I think I fainted. 


  My consciousness returned in the evening. I woke up a little dizzy, with my clothes tattered and my voice quavering. My head was throbbing with unimaginable pain and I smelt of charcoal and sandpaper.

      Just then, my friend, Camilla walks in. I can't believe it she's here. "Hey stranger, " She mocks. "Oh, so yesterday drunk until you blacked out, and today overpowering dizziness with the smell of charcoal and your head throbbing with pain, shivering body and no one to help you? Nice. Nice method, " She utters wearily looking around the room. "Don't be so hard on me, I can't live anymore, " I respond. "Come here, lie down and listen to me. " She gently helps me limp towards my bed and constrains me to lie down. 


"Brianna. It's been so long. I never thought we'd meet again like this. With you in so much pain and on the brink of self-torture. It's not how life works. It's not the way. You cannot give up on life just because things aren't working out how you want them to. This life, it's only given once. And I know, you are forced to do this, and this sadness is killing you, but believe me, the only way to get over pain, is to get through it. Your life is a boon. It's a wish granted true and you aren't sent in this world to give up. Life stretches far beyond, and every little minute counts. Self harm or inflicted pain, scars or misery won't help the situation. So throw shade on this ID your trying to cover up your true self with, stop trying to put up a more acceptable image. Stop trying to die, and start living. I don't know what is going to happen to you, but I sure do know that you are not going to leave so soon, this day, it is going to be the reason you made it through. Went through so much alone and still survive, passed through hell and still be an angel. " 


    "Diary. Today is my surgery. The conversation yesterday with Camilla gave me hope. Strength. Reason to live. And not a song without a rhythm, contrary, am the song with a mystical tune. Am not the scattered dust in the wind, rather am the hurricane that brews the wind. Am not the suicidal thoughts in my head, nor the heart aches. Am the light after the storm. The moon after the clouds. Am not a broken piece of a birdcage, am the piece the makes the birdcage complete. Am not melancholy or incoherence all too familiar, rather am the cheerful laugh after a meteor shower. These four hospital walls aren't a refuge, they are my savior, the reason for me being alive. Am content. And happy. I have hope and dreams and places to be and memories to make and cherish. I do not know what is going to happen to me today, but am sure of one thing, am going fight till my last breath, and if I have to go down, I'll go down a warrior. 


     12.37 A. M. 

1:43 A. M.        2:17 A. M 

       3:00 A. M. 


Hey diary. Guess what. I survived. Here I am, alive and breathing, given another chance at life because I fought for it. Fought through hell for life, and here, I have it. I wonder, what would have happened if I ended myself? Gave up? My family would be devastated. Am going to join a Non-Governmental Organization. To help those in need, to take care of the ones broken in life. Am going to help cancer patients, who suffer through what I have suffered through, and maybe, much worse. I am going to help them realize that life is not about giving up. It's about fighting for what you want, and achieving it. To stare at stars past midnight, and have sleepovers with your buddies. To steal the last pizza slice and to swim in the ocean under a pink sky. To give another shot at life. To withstand love, and cry behind a movie, and to laugh until you tear up. Life is all about another chance. Tomorrow isn't promised, maybe that's why they say "time is all we have and all we don't"


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