Untitled: Semiautobiography

Tomorrow is prom night.

The much-hyped, long-awaited biggest hurrah of high school was just a few hours away and I had this irrepressible laughter and anxiety gnawing knots in my stomach. Much to my demise, tomorrow seems to be one of the most important days of my life. At least at the time. Even if it wasn’t worth all the preparations, my custom-made golden dress was tailored to fit the vision that inspired me: a canary yellow gown on the red carpet that I ripped out of glossy magazine, worn by some A-lister and so I showed the photo to my seamstress. With gusto, I told her “I want this! Make it happen.”  This was probably the first gown ever made for me.  No, I lied.  My grandmother was also a seamstress and she has dolled me up since I was young – pink silk dresses, yellow chiffon ones, creamy white laces, decorating my frame…

Stay awake! I told myself as shut eye called out to me.  I stared back at the stark white ceilings.  The single mattress was stiff and the silver metal framing of the bed was cold against my pale skin.  There was a bit of shuffling outside as nurses walked to and fro, murmuring something incoherent, muffled sounds orchestrated in unison just outside my door.  Like a calando, the sounds died down, quieter by the minute, as moments passed by, and darkness enveloped the night. I’m closer to tomorrow.  I looked to my right corner of the room, and carefully eyed my older sister, my beacon of light, sitting quietly sobbing, and watching me in silence or despair? I wasn’t sure.  The darkness was pulling me to a deep slumber but I was fighting the tiredness. I forcefully prised my eyes open, afraid to close it, even as the shadows kept pulling me into abyss. I forced myself to stay awake, till tomorrow I said, fighting with the last thread of might. If I had tomorrow, I muttered. Eyes wide open. I was scared that I would never wake up again.

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