Monday, May 3, 2010

The Waiting Room

I remember her asking me to smile. I remember her walking down that long long corridor with a stranger, looking back with tears in her eyes. And then she was gone. I remember seeing her heartbreaking look and his petrified eyes. And then I remember the excruciating pain in my chest, so unusual, so unbearable. I remember, and the only thing I want to do is forget.

I want to forget the minutes that seemed like hours, the pauses, the sobs, and the worries. I want to forget every fucked up thought that went through my head. Go. Go away. I want to forget how he left us behind, perplexed, not knowing what the hell was going on. I want to forget, and the only thing I keep on doing is remember.

And then I saw balloons and cards and little angels, forcedly accompanied by her heartwarming smiles. She's back, I thought. My little sister's back! My angel and my friend, the only voice of sanity in a world now glad.

Living it and remembering it make it more emotionally overwhelming, and if I could just go back and erase every painful memory, I would. The bitter sweetness of it all, however, is that that day might have changed her life, our lives, forever; the first day of the rest of her life.

And I just can't wait to see what happens next.

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