𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔏𝔞𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔫 ✒︎ Camren

Part Three: Believe

Believe /bɪˈliːv/
(verb)
-Accept that (something) is true, especially without proof.

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See things for what they are, and not for what you want it to be.

A realist who is an unbeliever, would always find the ability and strength to disbelieve in something that seems so unbelievable.

Miraculous, even.

And if they're confronted with with a miracle that's so impossible to disprove, they would rather disbelieve their own eyes than admit the miraculous.

I've read a study recently, that states depressed people usually have a more accurate view of reality as compared to the optimists and believers. However, that accuracy isn't worth shit because it's depressing, and depressed people live shorter lives.

Or so they say.

Meanwhile, optimists and believers, are healthier and happier in their unreal worlds.

You're probably wondering what I am trying to get at. And it's simple, believing in something as silly as Aphrodite's journal was not something I had planned to do.

It's just something I couldn't do.

Are you trying to tell me, that this journal could've made my life a lot better than it was?

I could've wrote anything I wanted; possibly within reason, and chances of it happening was rather high.

Are you trying to tell me that what I wished for, was actually going to come true?

Bullshit.

Or so I thought.

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"Lexa," I gripped onto her hand, as she was being wheeled away on a stretcher. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. "C'mon stay with me. Please...don't go."

A nurse held me back from entering the ER, and I couldn't help but break down in the stranger's arms.

They said she was having an allergic reaction, but from what I knew, Lexa wasn't allergic to anything. We were just sitting in a restaurant eating, drinking and having fun. Until she started gasping for air, and I was so confused, I didn't know what to do.

The nurse guided me towards the waiting area and assured me that my best friend would be okay, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I've been let down so many times, that I couldn't find the strength to believe her.

It brought me back to the time when my grandmother fell ill. She was old but she wasn't sickly. One day when I was out with a friend, I got a rushed phone call from my mother, saying to come to the hospital. When I arrived, the looks on everyone's faces only told me that the end was near, but I refused to believe that.

I prayed.

Something I never did, but I prayed for her healing. I had faith that she wasn't going to leave this earth, and to be honest, I didn't think she was going to die.

The next day she did.

I didn't even get a chance to tell her that I loved her.