Poisoned Star

Reason 1

I sat out on my balcony and watched the stars above me twinkle through the thin clouds. I pulled my little blanket up over my shoulders as the cool wind blew past. I looked down to the little girl next to me.

The little girl with almond-shaped brown eyes, she would gaze up to the moon and the stars every single night. She had so much dreams, so much hope, so much to live for.

The little girl, with almond-shaped brown eyes, she grew up. Gone were her brown eyes full of life, that gazed up to the night sky. She had changed, and now, there was a girl with a broken mind and a sad heart. That little girl who grew up, is me. It was devastating, really.

I let out a heavy sigh, hopelessly waiting for a shooting star, which I pretended to believe that it would make my wishes come true.

I believed. I believed in 11:11 wishes. I believed in birthday candle wishes. I believed in every superstitious beliefs so my one sole wishes would come true, to be normal.

I've always wondered what it's like to be normal like the other kids. I've always dreamed of playing sports and do everything I like without worrying that everything will collapse and fall apart. I guess I'll never know.

You don't always get what you wanted. A dream is just a dream.

I looked up at the stars, I wish I knew how to identify constellations so I can detect at least Aries, my horoscope. But I'd rather let my imagination run wild and create my own constellations and shapes.

Sky full of stars is my happy place. The stars are the only things that don't look at me like I'm some sort of an object, stars never judge.

I slid my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. Three thirty in the morning? I groaned, tomorrow is my first day in college. Mom would kill me if she knew I've been up all night.

I rushed into my room, closed the balcony door and crawled into my bed. I couldn't mess up tomorrow. I've been dying for this. I've been waiting for the time when I can finally have my freedom and at least lived as normally as I could.

Few hours after I finally drifted into a peaceful slumber, my phone started playing classical music. It was time to get up. That was my alarm. I wasn't allowed to use typical, shocking and obnoxious kind of alarm tone, as it could kill me, literally.

I quickly took a refreshing shower and pulled my medium length ash brown into a messy bun on the top of my head. Reaching into my closet, I grabbed an oversized white shirt, buttoned it up and carelessly tucked the front part into a pair of black pants.

Once I was dressed, I moseyed downstairs to the kitchen.

"My dear! Slow down!" I heard my mom panicking.

"Mom, I wasn't even running." I sat across her on the kitchen table as she handed me a plate of freshly made pancakes with maple syrup. Yum! My favourites!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

"See!" my mom rushed over to me and grabbed the device that has been hugging my wrist since forever. Might as well call it a handcuff. The watch-like device was almost the same as the watch that keeps track of your heart rates but in my case, this device beeped every time my heart rates went crazy, which is all. the. time. Either too low, or too high.

Well, this is my life since I was born. I was born with weak heartbeat. Super, super, weak. Before I was born, the doctor couldn't detect my heartbeat. They thought I was dead. That devastated my parents, who had been expecting for me, for five years.

However, when they were delivered the 'dead' me, I cried my lungs out. Since then, I was a magical phenomenon to the medicine world. And a lab rat. A lab rat would be more accurate.