Just The Girl

Chapter 26

D A H L I A

You know that feeling when you think you've got everything mapped out perfectly, only to watch it unravel in ways you never imagined?

It's like being at the beach, meticulously building a sandcastle, every grain of sand placed with care, and you're almost at the final touch—about to plant a tiny flag at the top. You've imagined it so clearly, the perfect little castle standing tall, your victory marked with that flag swaying in the wind. But then, out of nowhere, your younger sibling, with all their boundless energy and mischievous intent, runs over, laughing maniacally, and without any warning, they throw themselves onto your masterpiece, hands flailing and feet stomping. In mere seconds, everything you've worked on crumbles into a pile of sand, leaving nothing but a vague mound where your proud creation once stood.

You're left sitting there, hands in the sand, staring in disbelief. You thought you had it under control, that if you just kept focused, the castle would stand tall and proud. But life, much like your sibling, has other plans.

It doesn't care about how carefully you've planned things. It doesn't give you warnings before it barrels in and scatters everything to the wind. And you're left wondering, how did things go so wrong so quickly? You thought you had control over the situation, but in the blink of an eye, your hard work and careful planning are reduced to nothing but a messy heap.

It's frustrating, heartbreaking even, but it's also one of those moments that makes you realize just how little control you actually have. Sometimes, no matter how carefully you plan or how hard you try, things just don't go the way you expected.

That's what I was feeling right now.

When Ivan gave me that heartfelt pep talks about being good enough—about how I was more than just the broken, fragile woman I had come to see in the mirror—it felt like a switch had flipped inside me.

His words were like a lifeline I didn't even know I needed, pulling me out of the dark pit I'd been drowning in for so long. He reminded me that I was worth more than the sum of my past mistakes, more than the trauma that clung to me, and that I had so much more to offer the world than I gave myself credit for.

It wasn't just about surviving anymore; it was about seeing the beauty in the chaos, about giving life another shot because maybe, just maybe, this time it wouldn't be so bad. I had started to believe that giving life a second chance would be a wonderful, wild adventure. The kind where, despite the bumps and bruises along the way, you still find yourself excited about what's around the next corner. I was ready to take that leap, to embrace whatever came my way with open arms.

But this disease—this awful, relentless disease—it feels like that child, the one who comes barreling in with no regard for the sandcastle you've built so carefully.

It's like I was just starting to put the pieces of my life back together, just starting to feel like maybe I could find my way through the mess and make something beautiful out of it. And then, out of nowhere, this disease swoops in and throws everything into disarray.

It's like the cruelest prank, shattering all my hopes and plans in one fell swoop. No matter how much I try to rebuild, no matter how many times I tell myself I can do this, there's this looming shadow of uncertainty, this thing inside me that could tear it all down again at any moment.

It's hard not to feel defeated when every step forward feels like it could be pulled out from under you. Every time I start to believe in myself, to believe in the possibility of happiness, this disease is there, lurking in the background, waiting to remind me that life is unpredictable, that it's fragile in ways I never imagined. It's like a ticking time bomb, and no matter how much I try to ignore it, it's always there, reminding me that the sandcastle can crumble at any moment.