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Treatment required tons of money,and their funds were gone.
Margaret worked multiple grueling jobs,aging rapidly.
Palliative care failed,and chemo was torture.The hospital sent Lily home for her final days.
I started university life anew.
One night,an unknown number called—Lily.
Before I hung up,she raged,"I remember—it's you!You stole my life!I was meant to be happy—you took my joy!"
Her shamelessness made me laugh.
I asked how I stole her life—by not stopping her from removing her"destiny-defining"mole?
She insisted yes.
"I urged you to remove it,and you blamed me for ruining your luck.I didn't urge you,and you blame me for ruining your life.Am I just your scapegoat?Never reflecting on yourself,always blaming others for your misery?"
"A lifetime ago,you killed me for advising you to remove it.Lily,don't be so vile!"
I could hear wind roaring on the other end of the phone.
She ignored reason.
"I'll wait for you in hell!"
She jumped.
School kept me busy with endless experiments.
In a rare break,I noticed a pinprick mole on my chin,dark and obvious.
Odd—I had been swamped but should've seen it.
Something seemed to cloud my awareness,making me overlook it.
Lily's last words echoed.
I booked a dermatology appointment first thing to laser it off.
That night,a voice tempted me:
"Don't you want an easier life?With luck, all kinds of good things will just come to you!"
No way.
"You won't slave over experiments—sometimes you lack that spark,that's luck!"
I won't bet my fate on vague fortune.No gain comes without effort—without that 99% of sweat, inspiration means nothing.
Next morning,I went to the hospital.
The mole was small—lasers sufficed.
As the beam hit,I felt something leaving reluctantly.
Five years later,I graduated with my doctorate and became a professor.
On my first day as a master's advisor,a student joked,"Teacher,I'm so lucky to be your student!"
I smiled,shaking my head."It’s not luck—it's your effort that got you here."
The life you want comes from your own effort.
