I sat up all that night, just waiting. I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited. They said that it would be coming tomorrow. The letter that decided my fate. This was a matter of life or death for me. If I didn’t get in, I didn’t know what I would do. There was nothing else I could do I guess. I would just die. I know that other people deserved to get in too, but it just wouldn’t seem fair if they got on and I didn’t. A knot twisted in my stomach as I thought of the only reason that I would be overlooked. My addiction problems. They had stopped me from getting into other places before. If I was accepted before, then I would have been saved months of worry, most of my sanity. And I wouldn’t have come back to my addiction in the first place. I remember the empty bottles strewn all over my small apartment. I am drinking a bottle right now, as I lie in wait. I turned it over in my hands; they were used to the empty weight now. That caramel colored glass stood for my shame. It was my disgrace, my personal temptation from God. I was a straight A student until I went to a party my senior year. It was there that I was eternally cursed. After so many bottles, my first was still like a blur. Tears formed in my eyes as I remembered the feeling of rejection I’d experienced numerous before. It tore a hole through my still curative heart. I felt my finger tighten around its skinny neck, as if strangling it. Something flew against the wall opposite of me. It shattered with a crunch. Chiming colors fell to the floor, altering and glistening with the reflection of my hazy lamp. The bottle was gone from my hand. Had I really just done that? I could barely comprehend this spout of viciousness form my hands. Maybe it was better if someone else did get in, what good would it do me? I would never stop sipping the liquid that caused me this pain; never stop being this sick version of the old me. But still I was too selfish to really want someone else to get in. as the night wore on, I could feel my eyelids getting headier with every moment. I wafted off into a disturbed sleep.



I woke up early in the morning, feeling even more drained than I felt the day before. This is the day, I thought, this is the day. Despite the feeling of hope in my heart I still dragged myself out of bed. I skipped breakfast; there wasn’t any chance of it staying down anyways. I went to my door, sat down, and waited. I sat there for hours, still in my pajamas. Then the mail came. My heart leaped for joy and at the same time it sank into my stomach. A new feeling of despair washed over me. This was it I rooted through the mail breathlessly, throwing all the college offers and bills to the floor until I found it. A note from the hospital. I sat there frozen for what seemed like hours, just staring at it. I took shaking hands and wiped a tear from my eyes before a broke the seal. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and flipped it over. More tears ran down my cheeks. I had hope in every fiber of my being, but it was outmatched by the anguish that lingered heavy in the air. I opened my eyes and read frantically. I felt my heart drop when I reached the end. But not from grief, no it had dropped because of the relief. I had made it. I was going to live. I was on the list for a new kidney. I had made it.