𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘

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WHEN we get out of bed, sometimes we think to ourselves that hopefully today is a good day, that maybe today would be better than yesterday

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WHEN we get out of bed, sometimes we think to ourselves that hopefully today is a good day, that maybe today would be better than yesterday. I sometimes think we need to remind ourselves that every day won't be like the flowers in the field and like the wind running through it. We need to remind ourselves that we should live like a rose in a graveyard—that everything around us is so dull and crumpled, but we're still pushing through it, making our way till the very end.

I pushed myself off my bed as I swung my legs from beneath the warm comforters to the carpeted floor—shuffling my feet into my slippers as my eyes stared at my hands, the black linings had disappeared over the past few days, the reason I believe is that I had accepted it, it sounds terribly confusing, but it's like I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in, feeling a rush of blood through my body as the marks had completely disappeared.

I haven't let myself think of it too much as I clipped my hair to the back of my head and forced myself into the single lavatory in my room—the coldness of the room making me shiver as I harshly rubbed the sides of my arms muttering to myself about how I hated mornings.

But today was going to be different, today is the day we've been waiting for, and it's finally here. I brushed my teeth as I thought about the fact that my mother was going to be here, watching me for the very first time. She had never shown up at any of my other events, since she was too occupied with my other siblings, as always, but I didn't let that impact me or my performance.

"You got this," I mumbled to myself, staring into my eyes in the mirror in front of me, breathing in. "Today will be good," I talked to myself as I walked into my dorm, opening up the door to my clothing as I stared at the selection of dresses my mother had sent over—my mother and I had never properly gone along, but I wouldn't lie that she never held back on showing the best to others.

I never understood why she cared so much about what others wanted or thought about, they aren't us, just like we aren't them. Life is too short to have such big meanings over these things.

My eyes peered over the three different dresses she had mailed me this past weekend, all of these equally beautiful and jaw-dropping—the elegance in each of the dresses made me smile.

The first was a beautiful celadon dress, thin straps following from its shoulder going down to my shoulder blades as it went to my lower back in a zigzag pattern. The dress flowed down in a silk material below as on top it was dressed with a mosquito net fabric covering the rest of the flowing dress as the waist area had a stunning diamond covering going all around it. 

The other two dresses were in colors of periwinkle and royal blue as my eyes stayed on the celadon dress. Pulling the dress out, as I held it by the triangular hanger—placing it on myself as I looked in the mirror, the color of the dress complimenting my tanned skin as it went well with my green eyes. The darkness of my hair pulled everything together into this exquisite lady of the darkness, reading to conquer all—just like in the fantasy books I've read.

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