𝙆𝙄𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙊𝙊𝙇ʳᵃⁿᵇᵒᵒ

*•.¸♡𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙪 𝙐𝙧 𝘼𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙨♡¸.•*

"The day after the worst day of your life, is guaranteed to be even worse."

Isla said that to me, surprisingly enough.

She whispered it into my shoulder the day after her dad's birthday. The same birthday in which she made that mixtape, the one she put all her effort in just for her dad to fuck off. All I could think to do was hold her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings into her ear,all in an attempt to console her.

She was 12.

At the time when she said it, I was surprised, surprised she could form an actually meaningful sentence. A sentence that she formed in the soul of her being, derived from the pit of her heart.

She chose to tell me of all people, something I immediately took for granted.

I didn't get what she meant then. I just kind of assumed she was spitting some woke, 13 year old, preaching, tumblr, bullshit.

But god did I know what she meant now.

---

For lack of a better word, that night crushed me.

I stayed crying outside until daylight. Howling my frustration at the moon as my happiness crumbled into ad excruciating nothingness. The waves of mess that were the previous events of the night crushing my very being to a pulp.

I lost both of my best friends in one night.

One of them I loved.

She pushed me away.

And one I trusted.

He betrayed me in one if the worst ways imaginable.

It was a night to remember, and certainly not in a god way.

But nothing could prepare me for the aftermath.

And the day after the worst day of my life.

---

I awoke in the bee garden, obviously having fallen asleep to the sound of my own sobs and wails, growing too tired to move on my own accord to the comfort of my bed, but that was fine, the slight buzz of the bees and the soft grass was comfortable in it's own way, except for when I woke up. The morning dew of the grass stuck my clothes to my body in an awkward sticky-ness and the hair on head stuck to the back of my neck all the same.

But what the most uncomfortable of it all was the guilt and dread rushing back to my brain.

Another tear shed from my eyes.

I won't go into the details of the remembrance, just know it involved a lot of tears and serious mental breakdown in front of the bees. One I don't think even they were prepared for.

After my crying fit was through, I collected as much of myself as I could and slumped back inside the comfort of my house. I practically fell into the shower, desperately wishing to wash off the worries of the night previous.

They remained no matter the amount of soap.

After the unsuccessful shower, filled with more tears and sorrow, I stumbled my way back to my room, throwing my dirty clothes in the corner before standing in front of my dresser, a towel wrapped securely around my body.

Now came a difficult decision.

To the left of my dresser was my comfortable hoodie, one that Isla gifted me a couple birthdays back. To my right, however, was my school uniform.

To the left was a day of comfort, a day to unwind and relax, swallow myself in my sorrow within the comfort of my room and warm bed. On the right however was a chance, a chance to fix one of the things on my mind, a chance to make things right.