Hai there my name is Ally Su. I live in South Korea

My parents are the richest people in the country.

And me.... I am just a person ....my parents adopted my younger sister Ashley ...and let's just say things started going her way ever since......

I guess it's because she is more cute , beautiful and healthy unlike me ....I suffer from Lung cancer stage 1 and from a heart failure problem... and am just 13 year's born in 2012 ....

Every morning, I wake up to the sterile smell of the hospital, even though I'm home. The oxygen tank is my constant companion, a heavy reminder of the air I struggle to breathe.

Ashley breezes through the house, her laughter echoing in the halls, a stark contrast to the quiet of my room. She's always been the sunshine, and I, the shadow. My parents, bless their hearts, try.

 They shower me with gifts, expensive ones, but what I truly crave is a moment of their undivided attention, a simple 'how are you?' without the doctors hovering nearby. I try to be strong, to smile, but the weight of my illness is a constant ache, a dull throb in my chest.

  One day, I found an old, dusty journal in the attic. Its pages were filled with my mother's elegant handwriting, detailing her dreams, her fears, before she became the woman she is today. As I read her words, a spark ignited within me, a longing to leave my mark on the world, even if it's just in ink.

The sterile scent of the hospital room always clung to me, a constant reminder of my reality.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was a lullaby I knew too well. Today, though, it was different. Ashley was here. She rarely visited, her schedule packed with photoshoots and interviews. "Hey, Ally," she chirped, her voice as bright as her smile.

She looked perfect, as always, her designer clothes a stark contrast to my worn hospital gown. "Ashley," I managed, my voice raspy. She perched on the edge of my bed, her expression a mix of pity and impatience. "Mom and Dad want to talk to you," she said, her eyes darting around the room. My stomach clenched. What now? More doctors? Another experimental treatment? "What about?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

Ashley shrugged, feigning innocence. "I don't know. They just said it was important." The door opened, and in walked my parents, their faces a carefully constructed mask of concern. Their eyes flickered between me and Ashley, a silent comparison I'd grown accustomed to.

The air in the room thickened with unspoken words, and I knew, with a certainty that settled like a stone in my chest, that whatever they had to say wouldn't be good.

The meeting was short, the words like a swift blow. "Ally, we've decided to move you to a new hospital," my mother said, her voice carefully controlled. "A specialist in America. It's the best chance." My heart lurched, not with hope, but with a cold dread. America meant leaving everything: my friends, my school, the familiar comfort of my room. It meant facing my fears alone.

Ashley's eyes widened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across her face. "Wow, that's... great, Ally!" she exclaimed, her voice a little too loud. My father nodded, his expression unreadable. "It's for the best, sweetheart," he said, but his gaze seemed to avoid mine. The unspoken truth hung in the air: they were tired. Tired of the hospital visits, the treatments, the constant worry.

That night, I started my diary. "Dear Diary," I wrote, the words shaky on the page. "Today, my life changed again. I'm leaving. I don't know if it's for the better, but I'm scared. More scared than I've ever been." I closed the diary, the weight of the future pressing down on me. The diary became my confidante, a safe space to pour out my fears, my hopes, and the unspoken resentment that simmered beneath the surface.

The fluorescent lights of the school hallway seemed to buzz louder than usual, each flicker a tiny stab of panic. Alex clutched their backpack straps, the worn fabric a small comfort against the rising tide of dread.

It was Monday, and Mondays were the worst. The weekend, a brief respite from the pressures of school, was over, and the week stretched ahead like a vast, unknown territory. Their palms were slick with sweat as they approached their locker. The combination, usually a familiar sequence of numbers, felt like a complex equation they couldn't solve.

They fumbled with the dial, the metal cold and unyielding beneath their fingertips. A sharp intake of breath, a quick mental pep talk, and finally, the click. Relief, a small but significant victory. But the relief was short-lived. Across the hall, they saw him. Mark. The guy who always seemed to know how to push their buttons, the one who could make their stomach clench with a single glance.

He was leaning against his locker, a smirk playing on his lips, and he was looking right at them. Alex quickly shoved their books into their backpack, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. They avoided eye contact, pretending to be engrossed in the contents of their locker.

"Hey, freak," Mark's voice cut through the air, laced with that familiar mocking tone. Their heart leaped into their throat. They wanted to disappear, to become invisible. They wanted to scream, to run. But they stood frozen, rooted to the spot.

"Leave me alone," they managed to choke out, their voice barely a whisper. Mark chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "What's the matter, Alex? Still hiding?" The words were a punch to the gut. Hiding. That's what they felt like. Hiding from the world, from their fears, from everyone.

They wanted to argue, to defend themselves, but the words wouldn't come. The anxiety, a familiar monster, was clawing its way up their chest, constricting their breath. Suddenly, a hand touched their shoulder. They flinched, spinning around to face... Sarah. Sarah, with her kind eyes and genuine smile. "Ignore him, Alex," she said softly, her voice a calming presence in the storm.

"He's just trying to get a reaction." Alex managed a weak smile, grateful for Sarah's presence. Sarah was one of the few people who knew about their anxiety, who understood the battles they fought every day. She knew the weight of the invisible chains that bound them, the constant struggle to breathe, to be normal.

Together, they walked towards their first class, the hallway still buzzing, but the panic slowly receding. Sarah's presence was a lifeline, a reminder that they weren't alone.

As they entered the classroom, Alex took a deep breath, trying to focus on the day ahead, on the small victories, on the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would get a little easier. But the image of Mark's smirk lingered in their mind, a reminder that the battle was far from over.