And… I just barely made it, but I do have the story posted before midnight! Please enjoy the 57th segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes:
“This is a peaceful existence.”
I continued gazing at the stars, not bothering to give Katie a glance.
“I wish I could stay up all night sometimes and just enjoy the quietness.” Katie’s words made me clench my jaw, but she didn’t notice.
Breath, Madalyn, breath. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on anything other than freaking out. There was no way I was going to be able to explain to Katie how much her words hurt me when I was in the middle of the pain. It would be better to calm down and then try to explain it to her at another time.
I wish I could stay up all night sometimes. After Katie goes inside I don’t bother to block the words from turning over and over in my brain any more. Lying back, I wish the tears would come that I’d been keeping at bay while Katie was still with me. Sadly, my eyes are dry now. Dry and burning.
I glance at my phone, hoping it’s not too late to text one of my friends. I hate being alone. I hate feeling forgotten. I hate thinking of the long night that will continue on and on until I see the sun rising.
I want to be like everyone else. I want to sleep at normal hours and get up in the early morning and work all day and be around people. I want my life to be back to normal. I want, I want, I want, and yet I’ve discovered it doesn’t really matter what I want. It’s more about what I get. And I have to learn to be happy with what I get, even when that is so crazy hard that I feel like biting the world and kicking and screaming and throwing a huge fit. So mature of me.
Yes, Katie is right, spending a night under the stars, just gazing at them would be a wonderful, relaxing, memory-making venture. Trading my perfectly good, people-filled, worth-while days in for the loneliness of scores of sleepless nights is not cool. Nor is it something for the faint of heart and recently I’ve been feeling quite faint of heart. I want to go back to my normal. I want to go back to what my life used to be. I can’t even enjoy the ‘normal’ moments that I have now, because I’m so upset at how uncommon they are. It’s like I’m stuck in a vortex of pain, loneliness, misunderstandings and heartache.
The more dramatic side of me wishes it was still a common practice to go into mourning like they did in the olden days so I could dress all in black and openly declare the great loss I feel over the death of my dreams and normalcy. The more practical side of me goes overboard to ensure I act as ordinary as possible when I’m around people outside my family so no one will suspect I’ve changed. Sure, I hardly go out any more, but people can easily imagine that’s because my music is consuming more of my time.