After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I wake the next morning before the sun has even risen.
I lay in bed groggily for a minute, not yet used to having to get back into the routine of waking up for school. I drag myself out of bed and to the bathroom after merely lying awake and staring up at the ceiling for much too long, brushing my teeth mindlessly. I am a zombie as I splash cold water onto my face, washing up before noisily walking back to my room. I wince when I cut the lights on, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness.
The closet door creaks as I slide it open, frowning at the array of clothing staring back at me. Instinctively, I want to reach for my dark hoodie and slide it on; maybe pair it with some sweatpants. I can't remember the last time I put actual effort into my appearance–not since Dad died, I think. Making myself presentable has felt pretty pointless lately, because what does it really matter how I look? I mean, why worry about things like clothes or makeup when I am standing on a rock that is floating in space and one day I will no longer exist. I am made up of nothing but atoms and space particles and before I know it I will return to the universe, just as Dad did. So who cares about cute skirts or lip gloss?
The bright pink top I bought at the mall what now feels like forever ago catches my eye. I recall the salesgirl, Haven, pointing out how well the color went with my complexion. I hesitate a moment before reaching for the top, running my fingertips over the material before removing it from the hanger. Being pretty doesn't matter, but putting in a little effort for once can't hurt anything, I suppose.
I pair the top with a pair of white distressed jeans and sneakers, studying my reflection in awe for a moment once I have completed the ensemble. I haven't seen myself in anything but baggy t-shirts and sweatpants in months, the change in my appearance leaving me unable to do anything but gape at my image in slight awe. I'd nearly forgotten my body had any shape–that my figure was more than just a lump. However, the tight top and well-fitting jeans prove that I am, in fact, more than a mass of dark clothing. The vivid colors of my outfit are completely outside of my comfort zone, but I can't deny Haven's compliment–the colors do bring out my complexion.
On a whim, I reach for the makeup bag atop my dresser that has been relatively untouched for months, deciding that maybe a little mascara wouldn't hurt. Then I am moving on autopilot, applying a bit of eyeliner, highlight, blush–the works. I decorate myself with necklaces and bracelets, even a few rings. When I glance into the mirror once more, I'm unsure of the feeling that resonates within me. For a moment, I feel lighter. Because I look like me again–the Emersyn that existed before all of the bad, before the sickness, before Dad died, back when everything was okay and I was happy.
The content I'm feeling is shattered when I remember that I am not that girl anymore and nothing is okay and I can't recall the last time I was genuinely happy.
I inhale a deep breath, holding the stare of my reflection with purpose. If Mom can fake being okay, then so can I. For just one day, I won't think. Not about it. I won't torture myself with the memories, I won't mull over my own misery. For just one day I will forget.
