The Death Of A Dream

As I closed my eyes, I thought about how my former roommate had pursued her life when I left. I thought about how she would feel when she learned what had happened to me. She probably wouldn’t shed a tear, for I was never a good friend nor a roommate. I tried to push my tears back into my eyes and forget everything I had ever done. I stood on the edge and tried to be numb as I watched the feeling that I never have been good enough for the people that have been in my life, embrace and drown me. Let me tell you a little bit about my life.

I had always wanted to be an actress. I used to go to acting classes when I had time from my part-time job and college. The only thing that I wanted to do was to perform in front of thousands of people one day. I was twenty-three when I started training with a professional actress. My teachers continuously asked me if I was sick, so much that I thought I was. I used to be tired and felt pain for unknown reasons all the time, and it wouldn’t go away when I rested. And I learned over the years that neither my headaches nor my high fevers were caused by meningitis.

I never told my parents about my dreams of being an actress. Then again, I never told them much about anything. I left the house as soon as I was able to, not because of my lack of love for my parents but because of the lack of communication between us. I got a part-time job at a cafe and moved in with my closest friend at the time, Chloe. We lived together until we graduated from college. I never understood how she was able to put up with me. I always came home late -usually woke her up while doing so- and I barely spoke to her, let alone spend time with her; even though she was my only close friend.

I was twenty-seven when I was offered a role at a commercial and I think it was the happiest I have ever been in my entire life. I remember feeling like nothing could stop me become an actress. As a teenager, I always thought that people who let obstacles get in the way of achieving their dreams were weak and that it was impossible for anything to stop me from becoming who I was destined to become. When I left the studio after two hours of shooting a single commercial, I was unable to hear and my vision was blurry. I thought it was because of the excitement I was feeling, but as I dropped to the floor and the world started to darken before my eyes, I knew something else was going on.

I was diagnosed with cancer at twenty-seven years old and I have been in this hospital ever since. The doctors said if I came to the hospital one month later, I wouldn’t have been able to survive. I am twenty-nine and am going through chemotherapy. Though I can’t say it seems to be working. My hunger for fame still hasn’t died, but I was never able to become the actress I wanted to be. When I was younger, I thought giving up on life was only for the weak. And the weak were who let obstacles get in the way of achieving their dreams. Yet here I am, going against all that I once believed in; seconds away from pulling the plug. I don’t think giving up on life is for the weak, because that would make me weak; but I think living is for those who can accept that this is as good as it gets. And as I leave, there is but one thing I am certain of something that seems distant and impossible may suddenly become imminent and possible.

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