Once upon a time their was a girl named daisy, she was a young girl, one who always smiled and did nice things for the old. she got diagnosed with cancer at the age of 10. Once she found out about this hell she would be going through she started to get sad, but not the sad that happens when your dog dies. The kind of sad she felt when her parents got separated or when sister left her fiancee she thinks it was because of the bruise she found on her arms. She met a young girl at chemo, who she later became very close to her after the church they used to go to caught flames. Living in Kansas the lightning storms are extreme and in this case it was the reason the church caught fire. Her new friend and her would roam the hospital halls at night to find more kids who had this terrible fait, in hope to make more friends. They later realized any other kid who had this fait, was in the children’s ward. They didn’t understand how intense their problem was. After a couple of years when Daisy turned 13 her friend went in for surgery and never came back. After Daisy spiraled out of control, until one day Daisy went to her old friends house. She went in her room which had been untouched to encase the memory of her. With the lack of human interaction in the room it was not kept up too date. The bed was unmade and her clothes still lay in the closet unfolded. Daisy turned on the light bulb and realized only one worked. She followed the stream of light to her deceased friends bookcase. She had never knew she was a big reader, but apparently she was, stacks upon stacks of books lined the casing along her wall. Daisy looked at the countless books her friend had read, she was astonished. Daisy saw one that peaked her interest. Even though these too had known each other for a couple of years they were practically sisters, and the book that peaked her interest was her old friends diary. She picked it up and hid it under her jacket. She went back to her hospital bed and sat down to read. She read about all her friend had gone through. She even learned new things about her. One of them was that she had a fake eye. The cancer she had, had taken it. She had never realized. She started to cry when she read about how her best friend had wrote about the countless days they stayed in, even though it was sunny out, and played countless games all of them including dice, or puzzles because the hospital was not well funded. A year later Daisy joined her best friend because the cancer had won the battle. Now Daisy and Hazel could reunite, in heaven.
As she looks around the cafeteria all she sees is beauty. With her plate empty she gets stares from all around her. The whispers have become chatter. “Why isn’t she eating?” ” what is she anorexic after spending all of her life eating?”. Being in an all girls school is hard, she sees leggings and crop tops everywhere. While she sits there in yoga pants and big shirts to hide the marks on her stomach and size of it. That night she sees that star, the star every teenage girl wants to see. The one the she can wish upon and make her dreams come true. She only has one wish, and that to be like everyone else. A normal girl, not one that has to shop at a certain store and wear certain clothes because normal ones aren’t ‘flattering’ on her.
She wakes up
the next day and continues her morning routine. Walking down the hall at school everything is the same. She moves more swiftly, she doesn’t know why but she wishes her wish is starting to take its affect. Weeks go by and she doesn’t see a difference. It’s funny though, she’s getting the compliments of “have you been working out?” Or “you look like you lost so much weight.” She sees slight differences like she had to buy new shoes because hr feet shrank, but that is really it.
It is now her birthday, she is turning 17 the prime in a young girls life. She puts on her leggings and brand new crop too she ordered herself. She walks over to the mirror with one of the brightest smiles. It has come, she found her old weight diary when she tried those sketchy weight lose places. She has succeeded, She is finally happy with herself. Finally the person she wants to be, as she takes front seat in her friends car. Friends!? Something she thought would never happen to her because she was never the pretty one, just the one that got left behind.
Weeks go by and her hip bones are starting to pop out. Her mom says she needs to stop what she’s doing, but she doesn’t understand, she isn’t doing anything. It’s the wish she can’t just turn it off. Her mother tries to stuff her face as much as she can, but she just can’t gain the weight, or any for that matter, back. She doesn’t understand what everyone’s problem is. She is finally skinny finally beautiful, able to wear anything she wants. When she walks down the street she gets whistles instead of moos.
Even though she has to go shopping for new clothes, she can’t wear crop tops anymore because people complain about seeing her ribs. She can’t play sports because her coach says she is too fragile, and is afraid of her well being. She has ended up in the hospital, how? She doesn’t know. The whispers and chit chat came back right before she was admitted. They say she’s wasting away.
She spent the rest of ever days in the library, she told all of the nurses she was writing a letter. They didn’t know it was her last one. The letter stated she knew her time was coming. She couldn’t stop the decreasing of her, that it wasn’t her fault she was just skin and bones. She stated that she was finally happy, but being skinny and “perfect” wasn’t all its cracked up to be. She was told all the time that being skinny was the dream, that all her problems will decimate with the decrease of the amount of space she took up. As people were told of her being in the hospital, the rumors started of her being bulimic or anorexic. Because she was too big, but health was a problem, but now shes too skinny and its a disease. You can never win in this world, if you are not pretty or not flattering to look at, you are not worth as much.
For the remainder of her time she spent in her room. Until her ribs stenciled her chest, and her hip bones were the only thing keeping her pants up. She lays under dozens of blankets, because she was never warm enough. when the doctors found her that day, she was practically nothing. her papers strewn along the desk they got her, because the walk to the library was too much. She never got to finish that letter. But she got her point across. Beaty comes from the beholder, if you believe you are beautiful. Then you are beautiful. She regrets never believing it. Her one last wish before passing that day was to wish she could have wished for confidence in herself, instead wishing for something that would not please her but everyone else.
I have had a hard life. Being with the same person, child to man is a legend for crayons like me. It’s all I have ever dreamed about, not having the risk of being thrown away. Being with someone who is an art major they draw to express feeling. I have been with him from times of anger, sadness, happiness, and even while love struck. Because of this I know many details about him, like that he didn’t have many friends. He thought of us simple crayons as his friends. He changed our boring names to descriptive personalities, for each of us. He also made us boys and girls making it easier to figure out what he would use for that day to draw certain things, we would move around in the box to better help him.
He had an assignment in class one day, it was to write about your favorite color without ever mentioning the color by name. I am his favorite color and to hear him talk about me in such a way was an honor. I will never forget that day he wrote it, he drew with me to make the edges more vibrant. And touching that paper I internalized everything. If you don’t mind I am going to share his kind words with you.
“It is the color of her lips before you go in for the kiss. The color of her cheeks when you tell her how beautiful she is. It was the color of her dress that you last saw her in that fateful night. It was the anger you felt after the accident. It was the color of the liquid that she was covered in when you found her. It’s the color of your heart that is now in pieces. And it is the color of the rose you left on her grave.”
I never knew the accident affected him so much. Even though I am his favorite color, he doesn’t use me that much anymore. I would imagine after all I remind him of. I do not mind it, he’ll always know I’m here, for when he wants to use me again. I hope it’s soon because I am laying next to the pack, sharpened, and ready to help him.