I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the lighting.
Everything around me was so bright.
I looked at the red painted walls and the neon signs and I knew I was dreaming. Of course it was a dream, it was too easy to guess. There was no way in hell that someone like me could be sitting here, in a worn-out wooden stool at the back of this restaurant, eating ramen out of all things. On the wall above my head were three words painted in white in Japanese. I could easily read them out loud, whether in a dream or otherwise. Those were the same three words that I written down on the wall in my bedroom using a sharpie. This confirmed that this was indeed only a dream.
When I opened my eyes and finally got out of that almost-too-perfect dream, I glanced at the wall above my head and found those same Japanese letters scribbled there.
"Love, Live, Laugh"
I had scribbled them down when I had first moved in here, and when I had been trying to teach myself a foreign language for no particular reason. I had believed that if I wrote them down, somehow they would become infused in my life and I would work towards living by these words.
Unfortunately, none of that actually happened.
I didn't exactly try to socialize much with anyone except a few people who were already in my life, excluding my parents. And I didn't even consider myself to be close to those people. So I can't really say that I loved anyone to be completely honest. I didn't laugh as much as I used to. And to live, well, let's say I was just trying to take one day at a time.
Rubbing the sleep off of my eyes, I managed to locate my phone from under my pillow, and I checked the time. I still had two whole hours before I had to go to work, and that made me sigh with relief. I plopped back down and hoped that I could get some more sleep before I had to actually wake up.
+ + +
Mornings for me were absolute hell. I despised waking up with a passion. And today was no different.
I was running late. I had fallen back asleep and hadn't been able to wake up on time and now I was running late. I dressed casually, pulling the same shirt as yesterday over a fresh pair of blue jeans. The shirt was a pale pink, with a small cupcake embroidered at the collar and at the end of the sleeves. It was mandatory to wear this at work, otherwise they didn't mind as such. So I was positive that nobody would notice that I was wearing the same shirt as yesterday and hadn't bothered to wash it.
I grabbed a granola bar from the fridge and a sweater which I stuffed in my bag, in case I might need to change later if I decided to go to class in the evening.
I locked the door behind me hastily and practically ran down the stairs of the building I lived in and out on the street where the sun hit me in the face immediately.
I kept my head down as I hurriedly made my way down the street. I could hear my heart beating rapidly in my chest and I was sure I was getting dizzy. Being around so many people made me feel weird. I was sure it was pretty bad, especially this morning because I hadn't had trouble with it the past week.
I started feeling nauseous as soon as I entered the bakery I worked at. The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee was in the air and a few people were sitting around having their breakfast, but I acknowledged none of that and made my way to the back room which was used by the employees.
I threw my bag on the side and sat myself down on the floor as I tried to calm myself down. I could feel the beginnings of a headache already, and I couldn't remember any of the breathing exercises I had been taught to help myself in situations like these. I closed my eyes and hoped this feeling would go away soon.
It had been almost ten minutes of me sitting like that when I heard the door open.
"Hey, are you okay?", Nate, my coworker, asked.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head up to give him a reply, and that's when I saw that he was extremely close to me.
He was hunched down to my level, one hand resting on my shoulder and he was looking directly at me, his hazel eyes full of concern.
I felt myself jerk backwards from the close contact. I swallowed harshly and tried to control my breathing but I could already feel that it was too late.
"What's wrong?", His voice was panicked this time.
I tried to say something, but this time his face was closer than before. The reply got stuck in my throat, and I remember hearing his voice again asking me something. And then everything went dark.
