All is Green

I opened my eyes to someone waving their hand in front of my face, then grabbing my hand to help me up. I stood without time to process my surroundings, taking in the person in front of me. She was a young girl who very much resembled me. Her expression was enthusiastic and impatient. 

“Sage! Wake up! It’s your birthday!” I desperately tried to catch my breath as the little girl shouted in excitement. Her small hands grabbed mine and shook them as she jumped up and down. Amidst her antics, I took a moment to look around. We were in my apartment, the smell of it very apparent and welcoming in my nose. I had recently decorated for the spring and summer seasons, greenery littering almost every surface without overdoing it. I had lit some candles and must have left them burning during my nap on the couch. Thankfully, no harm came to the apartment. Still, I had no recollection of how this young girl had come to find herself in my home. I was not related to her, yet she was a spitting image of myself. Although her hair was a different color and much shorter, her blue eyes and facial structure reflected mine. 

“Wait… who are you?” I inquired. She paused in her jumping and gave me a questioning look, then began to giggle. 

“Oh… hahaha that’s a good one,” she responded in a slightly irritated yet lighthearted tone. Before I could pry further, she began to drag me away from the couch. “Come on! We have a surprise for you in your room!” We? I thought. I reluctantly followed her in the direction of my bedroom. Rounding the corner, she turned the handle of the door and led me in by the hand. 

Upon entering the room, I saw more familiar faces gathered around my bed with a gift in the middle. My eyes first landed on the girl with the gift in her hand who sat in the middle of the bed. She looked the most like me but there were bangs lining her forehead, just barely draping over her glasses. The girl next to her who was standing next to the bed looked the same but younger. She had darker hair, and her eyebrows were sloppily filled in. The third looked even younger, her strawberry blonde hair with a hint of brown matching the young girl who woke me up. It was in this fraction of a second that I understood each of the girls was me. Each of them was a different phase of my life, from childhood to my first year in college, being the girl with bangs across her face. 

“Surprise!” they exclaimed. Their shout reverberated throughout the apartment. I slowly entered the room in astonishment. 

“Wh-what are you all doing here? How are you here?” I asked. 

“Sage, it’s your birthday. We wanted to surprise you. You’re finally 20,” the oldest of them said. The “me” from middle school chimed in. 

“It was Sage’s idea,” she said motioning her head to the “me” from high school. “She said you love surprises.” I felt like they were avoiding my questions. Part of me wanted to simply play along to appease them, another part was desperate for answers. I decided to choose the safest route, whatever it took to understand and move forward. Even if it took hours of playing along to make sense of it all. 

“Uh… thank you guys,” I said. I approached the bed where they had the gift waiting for me wrapped in a soft green wrapping paper. 

I first took a closer look at the youngest of them. I remembered still being bullied at that age. I admit that I was a bit cringy and annoying during this time, but that did not permit the way that I was treated. I looked at my short, natural hair color of strawberry and dirty blonde. The freckles that I passionately despised at that age dotted my face. I almost told her that they become the beauty standard in the time that I existed in this moment, but realized she may not know the meaning of this. Looking back, there was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that it got better or that we found our prince charming, but time did not allow me as I looked to the next stage of my life. 

The version of myself from middle school stood next to her. Her hair was longer but remained the same color. Light mascara sat upon her lashes and she wore her hair straight which contrasted its naturally wavy and curly state. I must have been in about 8th grade at this point, wearing my tan leather boots with the tan leather jacket to match. She didn’t need much for reassurance, but maybe a warning for the wave of emotions that were coming. I remember feeling untouchable at this age, no longer being bullied and temporarily with a solid group of girls to call friends. 

I moved down the line, inspecting the version of me from high school who had changed dramatically. Her hair was dark brown and she had caked makeup on. While the hair was wonderful, I was still poor with blending on the face. She looked more pale than usual, and the eyeshadow was a bit much for school. While reflecting, I realized that the decisions I made at this time led me down the correct path. However, I would have hated to let her down by telling her that we gave up on performing. I decided to let her figure it out as I did. 

Finally, I looked at myself from two years prior. At this stage of my life, I was wrapped around the finger of someone who was not committed nor had the energy to help me navigate my undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. I looked into her eyes through her bangs, a horrible decision now that I thought about it. I saw her overwhelming emotions staring back although she tried to hide it. I wondered which month she was in. Everything about that first year changed month by month and I had no clue how much she had gone through so far. Which roommate were we on? Which obstacles had we carried the relationship across on our breaking back? I wanted to tell her. My heart ached as I reflected on that life-changing year. I wanted to tell her that we figured it out, but not with him. I wanted to tell her that we’re still working on the disorder, but we’ve gotten better. I wanted to tell her that I am so proud of her and to keep pushing for greater things. I wanted to talk about how horrible it was and how we’ve made it this far and why. Instead, I could only muster up five words. 

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. 

Sage from college patted the bed next to her and scooted to make room, handing the gift to me. I slowly unwrapped it as the girls waited eagerly. The box beneath the wrapping was the exact same color, smooth with white, organic designs along the top. I peeked into the box but quickly shut it upon realizing what was inside. I felt them tense up next to me when the box closed. 

“What’s wrong?” Sage from high school asked. 

“Why didn’t you open it?” the youngest Sage asked. I slowly got up and put the box back on the bed, the oldest immediately picking it back up. 

“I need to go for a walk,” I declared quietly. I walked out of the room quickly, leaving all four girls behind me. I swiftly slipped my feet into my shoes. There was a brief hesitation when I saw the candles still burning, the wicks still having a long journey ahead of them as there was still a great bit of wax left. Still, I proceeded to reach for the door as I saw each version of me filing out of the room. Turning the handle, the bells around it jingled as I went to step outside. 

Before I had the chance, I felt a small hand tug at me, pulling me back in. I faced the small girl as the door closed behind me. 

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “You can’t go without your gift! We haven’t even eaten cake yet.” 

Sage,” high school Sage started. All of us looked at her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave without your present. We worked really hard to put it together for you.” I stopped to process their words. The confusion was enough to make my head throb. 

“You… put it together?” My eyes watered. I was beyond frustrated. “I’ve had enough. No more games no more… ugh! Just tell me what’s going on!” I demanded. All but college Sage seemed hurt by my sudden outburst. She stepped forward with the box in her hand as I went to take a step away from it. Once again, the version of myself from high school spoke up. 

“I think she’ll understand if we just tell her. She’s us, after all.” 

“Yeah, I know I would understand,” my youngest version spoke up. Clearly, she didn’t get it. My middle-school-self chuckled and rolled her eyes, silencing herself at the tension in the room. Finally, Sage from college explained. 

“We can’t leave until you take it. All of us, I mean. Now that we’re twenty years old, you have to take the box. It’s time to face the truth, and it’s time to wake up to what the world is. 

You’ll never grow if you don’t.” 

“I was about to leave. I would’ve been fine,” I retorted. She shook her head. 

“Take a look,” she said while motioning to the door. I never lost my sass when being denied, even now. They stepped back, the younger two hiding behind her a bit. I turned my back, opening the door once more to be met with every surface of the outside world being covered in different shades of green. Everything was glitching and coming in and out of existence. It was chaos. Like a videogame, the world outside of my apartment was seemingly unfinished. We shut the door and I turned back to the box. “If you open it, things might be different; for better or for worse. We can’t continue unless you open it.” Looking down at it, my hands shook as I took it from her. The box began to shake as well once I had possession of it. 

“Are you sure?” I asked. My voice was shaky as tears formed in my eyes. 

“It’s the only way to progress,” she said. Each of them put their hand on me in comfort, urging me to continue forward. I let go of the breath I had been holding onto and lifted the lid of the box. 

 

*** 

 

Sitting at my desk, I realized that I had been breathing heavily. I had fallen asleep while writing and the sun was now rising to my left over the other apartment buildings across the street. My computer sat in front of me, the document as blank as my mind as I searched for something to write about for a personal project. I sat back in my chair, watching the cars fly by on the street and a couple taking their dog on a walk. My gaze shifted to my kitchen which had recently been decorated for autumn. I considered simply shutting down the computer for a while and grabbing some coffee, allowing my brain to catch up. There were candles burning on my kitchen counter and the table I was sitting at, the wicks completely exposed at the bottom and surrounded by liquid wax. How far they have come. 

My mind wandered as I remembered the box. I remembered the hands on my shoulders as I went to open it and the panic that coursed through my bones. I wished that I had thought to tell them how things turned out up until that moment or asked for advice. It would have been quite interesting to hear what they had to say. I missed each of them and longed for one last moment with each as I pondered my memories of the past. Dreams are frustrating in that you never really get the opportunity to do or say as you wish no matter how vivid or real they may seem. Usually, one would forget the details quickly and move on. I remembered everything. My memory turned back to the box and why they gave it to me. Thus, I was back in that moment all over again. I remembered opening the door afterward and seeing the beauty and the pain. It was so raw and so real. 

My attention turned back to the empty document where the cursor hovered over the black, blinking line where words would soon form. Tears formed in my eyes as I began to let my fingers glide across the keyboard. I recalled the gift they had given me. Opening the lid, I was met with the seven large, white letters that contrasted the darkness behind them. I typed it as the title: “Reality.”