Osiria Rose [✓] - MAJOR EDITING

1. Wistful

The tales begin from the abyss of despair. Prayers and miracles were hoped for, but they persist to cease. 

As a fourteen-year-old girl, there were a variety of things that could be done.

There were loads of time spent outside playing with friends from a very young age as well as the timing with parents. I would consider those times the best way to have fun, cherishing those moments filled with laughter. 

It is during youth when both good and bad clash a lot, yet in the end you find yourself placed in a good condition and feeling. 

Life does have its ups and downs to not confuse one's mind, but to mature as time passes by. Every day, the embodiment of euphoria would approach in a manner of bonding with others - almost like a routine that never bores one person.

Until all the fun kind of stopped on the day that I've fallen ill. 

What's the worst thing that could happen? What are the chances of me getting better again? Will I ever get better or will sickness abide by me till I die? Do my parents have to witness horror once more? 

This agony feels like no ordinary pain. The sensation feels new and questions are flooding around my father's head like there's no tomorrow. Possible answers are coming in and out of my mother's mind, only to find nothing from both of them. 

How much pain must someone go through to be able to change completely into a different person?

Personally, pain does change people regardless of what situation they've been placed upon. 

This thought of agony makes me numb with emotions. I don't know how to properly feel sad, angry, or even happy. I can't even describe how emotions feel anymore as I mentally stare into thin air. Every day accumulates a wave of despair. Those emotions have been washed away like the seashore. 

The dark blue waves travel at the end of the ocean at the shore, only to have white trickles of waves return. I could only force myself to smile to express happiness, force myself to be quiet to be angry and close my eyes to feel sad. 

Apparently, sadness was the only feeling I could express the most out of the majority.

It wasn't just any normal headache, not even a migraine, but it felt like that yet worse. It's kind of tough to describe it like it was a terrible headache, but it wasn't considered a migraine. I'm not sure what they said, but my ears are manipulating what I'm hearing. 

Perhaps this was just a normal sickness I told myself, something common that every child may go through in their life.

However, something severe as this doesn't deem normal. 

I felt the need to endure this odd sickness, which brought shock to me upon hearing it for the very first time. My father, a doctor in his mid-thirties discovered that it wasn't just a normal type of sickness. It rather was scripted as an unknown disease that otherwise mattered as new. 

It caused a shock to him and ever since then he wouldn't give up finding the answer to cure me.

He's been working non-stop. My Mother as well could not rest for a second. They barely have any sleep despite my condition and they didn't care for their well-being enough. 

It has been ongoing for quite a while and I felt both reckless and useless. I could barely even do anything, yet speak and walk. It drove all the positivity out of my body as gloom consumes every bit of my body.

At an age of fifteen every time I stood up too quickly, the throbbing headache would replace the stillness. I didn't have much of a choice, but to stay in one place and choose to isolate myself from the world.