Wake up to Tomorrow
                                                                by
                                                     Hayden Morrison

       Wouldn’t it be nice for every day to be the same? To know that when you wake up, things would be no better or worse than when you fell asleep?

       Alright, so maybe it wouldn’t be good for everyone. Some people would prefer to wake up to learn that they just one a big check for one million dollars. There are also those that have average lives, yet hope for something interesting to happen. Anything.

       I was in the latter category- note the ‘was’. I hoped for it every second of the day, yet I forgot to hope for it to be something that didn’t lead to tears. That is, something negative. Something sad.

       Like the death of someone I loved.

                                     *                       *                       *

       Natalie was always so beautiful. She and I had been friends for years- since before Grade School. We were together all the time- never parting.

       This was true, even all the way into High School. She and I had at least one class together every year- and now we were in Senior year (of High School, that is).

       And, even though we had stayed friends, she was always the popular one. The one who all of the boys pined after. The one who was the reason some people even came to our school.

       The one who blew all of them off for a girl like me.

       I don’t know why she did it, but she did. We were always hanging out, always coming up with new games to play. We didn’t lounge around the house, talking about which boys we thought were the cutest- we went out and explored. We collected bugs and climbed trees. We searched for and stomped on every stereotype possible. We enjoyed ourselves. Every day was the same.

       Still, I wasn’t content. I had no beliefs in any religion, but I still hoped (which is somewhat like praying, I suppose). Every night, as I drifted off into sleep, I hoped for a change. And then, one day, something finally changed.

       Natalie didn’t show up to school.

       Usually she sent me a text message if she was sick, but she didn’t today. I was confused. During the day, I even managed to convince myself that she had strange lately- though the change was so gradual that I hadn’t noticed it until now.

       A few minutes after those thoughts, I laughed at my own imagination. Looking back, the memories of those laughs were like knives in my chests. They hurt too much to bare.

       It wasn’t until the next week that I learned what had happened, what had changed. When I did...no, we’ll get to that later.

       She died.

       And I don’t mean some kind of natural death. She had an illness (I don’t know which kind- those who knew refused to tell), and it had been getting worse lately.

       Maybe I wouldn’t have been so broken up about it if it wasn’t for the next detail I heard.

       It was an easily treatable illness.

       Yes, that’s right. My friend had an easily treatable illness which she and her family knew about, and she died from it.

       But why? I knew that it wasn’t a money issue, they had plenty of cash around. What could have been the reason that my best friend died?

       I heard it on the news a few days later. The news, of all fucking places.

       You know why her parents didn’t taken her to the doctors? Do you know why the illness progressed? Do you know why she died?

       Her parents, well, they were very religious. I knew this, and I respected it. But it was then they I learned exactly how far they took it.

       They didn’t want her to go to a doctor. They didn’t because...well, here’s what they said:

       “We wished to pray- we have a right to pray for our own daughter’s life, don’t we? Taking her to a doctor would be telling God that we do not have faith in His ability to help her. We would be betraying His trust.”

       I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea how to react, so I just sat there, mouth agape.

       Staring, watching, waiting...wishing that I had noticed sooner. If the days weren’t all the same, then maybe I would have noticed her gradual change sooner. If something new happened every day, then her health might have stood out.

       If she had more friends than just me. If I hadn’t clung to her so much. If, if, if...

       If her parents hadn’t been such dipshits. If she had told me.

       If I hadn’t wished for a change.

                                          *                       *                       *

       These are my last words on this Earth: If you are content, then hope to stay that way. If nothing stands out in your life, then find the good things that you take for granted. When you wake up to the same tomorrow as yesterday, then just be glad that you’re waking up at all.

       Wishing for change is inviting sorrow, and that’s not something that anybody wants.