I am not sure The last time I felt Normal

Matter of fact what is normal anyway?

I am always in pain Thoughts never stop going through my brain It never STOPS

My mind and my body they ache they creak they scream for mercy

What is normal? Is is calm? Is it quiet? Is it nice?

I really want to know what normal feels like because i dont know the last time i felt normal

Not since I was diagnosed with diabetes at 7 but no one understands that i didnt cause it

No one gets that sugar wasnt the issue and that i have a dead organ inside

I havent felt normal not since I was diagnosed with POTS at 14

Not since I was diagnosed with Anxiety at 10

Not since I was diagnosed with Adhd and OCD at 11

Not since my body starting hating me even though I already hate myself

I dont know what normal feels like ever since normal started to feel like nothing at all

If heartbreak was a sickeness, I would evidently be ill with thee. My heart aches with every breaking beat, As if it were made of cracking glass, Waiting for its final shatter.

If heartbreak was a sickness, I know it is within me. Love is nothing but utter defeat; I cannot win, so I must let it pass Though why must it matter?

If heartbreak was a sickness, Then there is surely no cure. I am sick day after dreadful day, Waiting for the impending pain to cease; Begging for a relief to release.

If heartbreak was a sickness, Then I dare say this is the sickness I endure. I cannot find a single way To heal my broken heart; each piece. I beg for my heart to find complete peace.

The ceiling is bumpy. It has these little nubs sticking out of it. I create constellations between them in my head. The ceiling is white. The ceiling is boring.

I try to lift my head and look out the window.

Nope.

Not gonna happen? Ok, head. Be that way. Give me a searing headache Every. Single. Time.

Jerk.

An impotent wind sock hung on the roof of the old barn. Jake scowled at it. Pete on the MadDog and Larry radio show’s said today was the perfect day for flying, slight wind from the east, no chance of precipitation, mild temperature. Carrying his soldiering gun, Jake walked into his garage not remembering what he had come out outside to get. Jake started filling his weather balloons with helium.

The sun had moved from behind the clouds. Jake smiled into the rising . His homemade basket was securely tethered. Silvery saucers, his custom balloons floated over his basket. Jake had dreamt of his flying machine since he was eight years old. All of his notebooks were covered in squiggles of planes, choppers, and balloons. Martha had listened to his dreams when they were young and holding hands in the park. But once she was pregnant with Maggie, Jake took his flying dreams to the garage. Martha was gone now but the drawings of flying machines remained.

A car door slammed. Jake paused listening for sounds of who had arrived. I suspected it was Maggie with her husband Ron come to talk sense into him. He returned to loading his survival gear: flashlight, granola, water, BB gun, radio, and parachute. Debbie was supposed to bring him a hearty farewell, help untethering his craft from the earth, and a steaming thermos of black coffee. Debbie was—he never knew what to call her as they were both too old to have a girlfriends and boyfriends anymore—his biggest supporter until she wasn’t. Jake wasn’t much of a coffee drinker but he wanted help and felt a thermos of hot coffee was very, “Only Angels Have Wings.” Debbie, no it was Martha who loved Cary Grant movies. Jake looked for his coffee and looked away.

Voices were raised from the house. Maggie and Debbie were going at each other. Jake climbed into his basket. Fastening down his belongings and reviewing his pre-flight checklist, Jake swayed. His basket was ready to lift off. Jake looked up at the wind sock blowing in the wind.

“Whatcha doing, Grandpa?” Tyler said.

Jake instructed Tyler how to release the cords that held his flying machine to the ground. Tyler waved bye-bye as his grandfather’s dreams came true.

I never get a cold, okay. Like never. I don't even have to take medicine. Okay, now with all that out of the way, I have to confess, I don't feel so good today. My stomach is dueling with my intestines, and I'm fairly certain that my heart and lungs have switched places. It is not very good at all. How could it get any worse, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I have been commissioned, along with the rest of the Dalshicca, to perform ad the palace for some important guest. Maybe I have time to recover my health before the performance? Wrong! No, it's this very evening, and my body hates me! Oh! And the Father is definitely going to be there, unlike a rumor my friend told me. This is sure to be a disaster! I haven't been able to sleep well since I began having these symptoms, which only started two days ago... when I heard about us performing before the Father. You would think that a member of the great Dalshicca wouldn't know what stage fright is. And you'd be right. Whatever is happening to me, it is not stage fright. Our leader has been to see me several times already, as he worries for the upcoming show. He isn't sure I can do it. Not that we really have a choice in the matter. We don't have the time to prepare a different set, and we no longer have a backup... I am the backup. And yet I can't even speak, much less sing! My throat is raw and aches. My head is light and my vision is unfocused. All of this is happening, and yet I NEVER get sick, so what is wrong with me?

Lola’s slender fingers of alabaster tremble significantly as she draws in a deep, heavy breath. She would deny the weight of which burned her chest, the soft racketing noise escaping her lips upon her next exhale was evidence enough she was struggling with the task at hand.

But she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. How could she, when giving up on this and admitting defeat filled her with such self loathing she would rather this ruthless illness take her and let that be the end of it.

One more deep, painful breath, filled with the burning of Lola’s sheer determination to cling to her life, and she lowered her fingers in tandem. Plucking at the Ivory keys, anyone with ears would feel somber to hear such a melancholy filled tune. The song that filled the room was a plea; to whatever greater power existed beyond the space of logic, whatever lay dormant or active and had influence over this life. This moment.

Lola was playing a plea, a plea for her soul to finally rest. Through months of medical treatment, homeopathic treatment, shamans and priests, she had just about had enough of fighting. Fighting for breath when her lungs began to fail her, scarred by countless lesions that had made it a near impossible feat to simply live. And yet Lola persevered, determined to make it to this final milestone, to complete this final task that would’ve taken her but a third of the time if only her traitorous body hadn’t begun to die on her.

Not that anyone would call Lola’s state living. She was surviving a brutal battle with every breath, every step, every thought. Her gaunt appearance was striking enough, but her lips and eyes drew the most attention. Her lips, pale as the skin surrounding it and cracked skin that stemmed from dehydration. Her eyes, once bright and clear and azure as the deepest sea, ringed with the hue of exhaustion. Every visual aspect of her made it sickeningly apparent death was fast approaching, even the nurses were utterly dumbfounded by the woman’s resolve to simply survive.

And for the sole purpose of learning this one song.

Lola closed her withered eyes as she immersed herself in the depths of her symphony, humming alongside the mournful tune. It was once the song of her youth, that told the story of her first and last love, the resilience she held that people around her marvelled and envied. The song that had started it all, and would be the end of it all.

Pulling back her shrunken hands, those withered eyes fell onto the keys, tracing over the dark splash of vermillion coating them. Coating her fingers with a comforting warmth that assured her the end was close.

Tipping back her head, fine grey strands fell upon Lola’s shoulders as she let out a resigned breath, willing it to be her last as she stared up through the glass ceiling and toward the endless sky she had looked to so many times during moments of doubt throughout her long life.

Far too long a life, her thoughts echo.

With her eyes closed, basking in the brilliance of the mid morning sunlight, gasps sounded around the room as countless nurses stopped in their tracks to stare; visibly awestruck by the sight.

For Lola, who a moment ago had appeared as a withered hag battling for each breath, was reborn anew before their very eyes.

With locks of spun gold that fell to her waist in ringlets, brushing against skin the colour of a swans’ feathers rather than the hideous pallor of death. She turned to each nurse, her eyes sparkling with the luminosity of each star in the sky of the clearest night.

“Thankyou,” her melodic voice rang, no longer hoarse or crackly, but as clear as a bell chime. And with a final smile, and a look of absolute and irrefutable peace, her body dropped to the floor bonelessly. The sound of which quickly snapped the room back to reality, where the small and frail body of Lola rested.

The most haunting thing, however, was that the last note of that sorrowful song still loomed.

Death itself still loomed.

Placing one step in front of the other Standing in the gap for one another Attempting greatness once again Through my imagination and a pen The simplest of desires, to just be An uncluttered healthier mentality Beaming with courageous optimism Without my source it’s plain cynicism Not in my own strength, not today A heart full of worry and woe will betray Desperate desires for ultimate fulfilment Juxtaposed with a lack of commitment Lost, hurt and drowning without a fight Kept afloat by a small glimmer of light

I have no words to say You wont be here to stay I have a living breathing Heart split in two You’ve got my body With nothing to prove The red spills to blue It seems you have to Keep your mind inside Why can’t I say You’re not in the grey In the black and not turning back The stream of blood Bleeds into the mind But your curves are so divine

Here into now I can’t wear a frown I came to say I’m never coming down So while you’re here You know where I’m found But I can’t hear a sound

I’ve got a trail of blood in the pool I can’t help to wonder If it will lead me to you The only one who knows where I’m found But you won’t make a sound

Peyton is carrying me back towards the camp. He has his hunting rifle strapped across his back along with his water container. I was making it more difficult for him to get back to camp so he could leave with the Watchers.

“Just put me down and run. You can’t be late and I’m just holding you back.”

He looked down at me and let out an exasperated sigh.

“In what world do you think I would do that, Maya?”

I frown at him. The stinging in my right foot grows worse and I wince as the pain radiates.

“You can hardly stand properly. There’s no chance of you walking right now.”

I keep quiet as he walks through the thick forest. A path was designated so that we could trade and have a way of escape if needed. We reach the part of the trail where the camp becomes visible. Ahead I can see the wall of our camp, its wooden beams covered in moss. The trees of the forest become farther apart, and the sun hits us harder. I let the warmth of it comfort me even though my damaged foot still burns and causes me to bite my lip.

We reach the entrance of the camp. Two large doors, which were crafted by the king’s son, help provide a safe haven for the people inside. Peyton uses his water canteen to knock the appropriate amount of times and in the correct pattern. A man above the wall appears and smiles.

“Peyton! Finally, you’re back.”

Peyton chuckles. “It hasn’t been that long. You’re just impatient!”

The man laughs and signals below for the guards to let us in. Slowly the tall metal doors open, revealing the bustling streets and lively community.

I attempt to wiggle out of his arms as he walks in.

“Put me down. Now.”

“Is your foot suddenly back to normal? No more unbearable pain and swelling?”

I glare at him. Of course my foot is still very much swollen and painful but I’m trying to hide my discomfort the best I can.

“The infirmary isn’t too far. I can manage.”

“Exactly, it isn’t too far. Just shut up and be patient please.”

As Peyton heads towards the infirmary, people passing by give strange looks to us and to each other. It isn’t normal for Watchers to be seen carrying anyone.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” Dr. Manning says when we come through the curtain separating the healing area from the recovery space.

“I found her by the well, lying down alone. Her right foot-“.

I lower my left leg in an attempt to free myself. Peyton relents and lets me stand on my own, although he keeps my right arm over his shoulders.

“My right foot, well, just take a look will you, doc?”

He nods and walks over to an empty cot. I lie down as he directs, and pull up my pant leg. The redness of my foot is spreading up towards my calf. Dr. Manning leans over to look while sitting on the nearby cot.

“My goodness. This thing is swollen beyond belief. Is it alright if I touch it?”

I nod and he begins to examine my foot. I clench my teeth as the sharp pain increases in intensity.

“Doc, is there anything you can do? Give me some sort of medicine? I have to go with Leo to the meeting today.”

He leans back and sighs. “Do you really expect to go to that meeting in this condition? The journey is two days long and is physically demanding. You can’t be serious.”

Peyton nods his head in agreement. “That’s what I’m saying. Maya-“. He looks at me sympathetically now, which only infuriates me more. “Leo will find someone else to accompany him. You’ll have to sit this one out.”

I hug my arms across my chest. I don’t look at Peyton because of the impatience building up inside of me. “Doc, what do you think this is? I mean I stepped on a sharp rock but I don’t see how this could happen.”

Suddenly Dr. Manning is curious. “You stepped on a rock? When was this? Did it puncture your foot?”

“I think so. Yesterday while Karen and I were gathering supplies in the barn, I stepped on something sharp and hard. I remember taking off my sock and seeing blood.”

He nods slowly as if understanding something. “It’s clearly infected Maya. You don’t need to be a doctor to see it. I’ll prepare a treatment that should relieve the swelling and pain, but it’s going to take a few days.”

I nod, feeling tired and guilty. I had told Leo that I was going to go with him to the meeting with the new people.

“You get some rest now, you hear me?” Dr. Manning orders. “I’m going to go speak with Nurse Jane.”

He walks out of the tent, leaving me alone with Peyton.

“I’ve got to go, I’m already a couple of minutes late and the guys are going to be pissed.”

I nod in understanding. “Go. Tell Martin that you were assisting an injured girl who desperately needed help.” He grins slightly. “Alright, he says. “I’ll check in when we get back.”

“You don’t have to.” I say, but he’s already walking out of the tent.

I remember suddenly that the water I had obtained from the well was still at the well. I groan in pain as well as frustration. I’m not used to doing nothing.

“Are you okay Momma?” I look down at my two year old and smile.

“Of course I’m okay sweet pea” I say as I carry on pushing the trolley, its squeaky wheels screeching in my mind. I look up to regain my composure but the lights are blinding. “I just have a little headache, that's all, I’ll be alright.”

We continue shopping for the next ten minutes, but the pounding in my head only gets worse. I head to the toilet so I can sit down for a moment, but I forget I haven’t paid for my items and the alarm starts blaring.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t thinking straight” i tell the security guard who scowls at me disapprovingly.

“You can’t take items you haven’t bought into the toilet with you.”

“Yes I know that, it was a mistake.”

“It’s company policy, you’ll need to leave them out here.”

“YES I KNOW THAT!” I snap as my heart begins pounding in my chest.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to come with me.” I pick my daughter up and follow the man, the room feels like it’s spinning around me. As soon as I sit down in a little office I ask for a drink of water.

I’m refused.

Another ten minutes pass and the man is still lecturing me about my inappropriate behaviour. I apologise over and over as my mouth continues to dry out.

I become too weak to say anymore and the next thing I know I’m waking up with my daughter tugging at my arm and a cup of water in front of me.

“Do you need an ambulance?” A tall lady asks hovering above me. I shake my head and go to get up, but she stops me. “Take it easy and have some water, you’re dehydrated. I nod and do as she says. After a while I start to feel a little better.

“Go home and get some rest” the lady tells me as the man crosses his arms in the seat opposite.

“What about my shopping?” I ask him.

“It’s not yours, you haven’t paid for it. And you’re not coming back to this store again.” The lady goes to protest, but it’s no use, his decision is final! I get up and carry my daughter out the store with me, tears in my eyes.

“Don’t worry darling, there are other stores we can go to.” I look up at my car and sigh, I don’t think I’m in the right headspace to drive, but what other choice do I have? I have to do it for her. A mother must always do what she can for her child, my health must always come second.