It seems like this hallway is eternities long. Eggshell white paint is falling off in tiny pieces at the baseboards. The bright fluorescent lights immediately gather the last bit of energy I have in me. The tiles have the same pattern and color of one of my high school classrooms, where I was so in my mind that all I could do was stare at the floor and disassociate from reality. The ambiance is.. uncomfortable. Ironic for a doctor’s office.

At the end of this hallways is the doctor that will tell me if I will live or die. A week ago, I was arriving to NYC, with those butterflies in my stomach so ecstatic to start my “adult” life after graduating college. This was it, I finally made it, were my thoughts. Everything I did in my life was to get here, I created a plan for myself at age 14 that I have followed to a T. Get good grades, be kind, love yourself, be there for your family, be a good friend, don’t drink or do drugs. I had planned this my entire life.

I get right to the door and just stand there. I’m stuck. I can’t think or move. I’m just there. A warm, salty teardrop runs down my face. There’s no time for crying, yet. I place the palm of my hand sternly onto the freezing cold, metal doorknob and turn it ever so slightly to the right. It’s a very quaint office, much more comfortable than the hallway. I sit in a comfortable chair in front of my doctors desk. There’s one of those inspirational quotes sitting on her desk that says “everything happens for a reason”. Just as I’m thinking about what that meant to me, she walks in and her face said it all. Everything happens for a reason, and I am meant to die, but this is much sooner than I anticipated.