S.Nadira
S.Nadira
Sep 7, 2018 · 2 min read

One Day.

You lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling above. It was pitch dark, and all you could hear was the sound of your air conditioner. You struggled to sleep, but you couldn’t. You changed the position of your pillows, pulled your blanket up to your face and closed your eyes as hard as you could. But still, you couldn’t fall asleep.

As you were shutting your eyes, you asked yourself, is this true? Or am I in a dream?

Your chest felt so heavy, you were catching up on your breath that night. The cold wasn’t helping, it sinks into your skin. Your head was spinning from the tears throughout the night and day. This was what pain felt like after years of not feeling it.

One day. One day you had sand in your hand. And One Day, as you were about to hold on to it, it trickles through your fingers. By then you knew, it was lost. And by then you knew, you would never scoop up any sand into your hands again. Because of how fine it is, it shouldn’t be scooped using bear hands.

Today, you hope for One Day. One Day you could finally breathe without feeling cold and without having the pain in your head and your chest. Without tears welling down your cheeks day and night. Without pain of not being worth.

One Day.

S.Nadira

Written by

S.Nadira

If you’re here, keep reading. I’m here writing, to you.