1 Degree

It’s one degrees Fahrenheit, not Celsius, I never learned Celsius. I went to public school in America and in my adult life never bothered to learn. I even had to ‘Google’ how to spell Fahrenheit. I never need to spell Fahrenheit. It sounds germen but I think the Germans use Celsius, that was another thing I never bothered to learn, I had to Google it, I didn’t google it.

            Google, a verb, to search something on the search engine Google. Google helps people find answers, there is no reason for ignorance in the era of search engines. People don’t remember, I don’t remember, I don’t need to, I can Google it.

            I use Google weather on my phone and it tells me its 1 Degrees Fahrenheit. The normal dull ache in my bones worsens to a searing pain as I struggle to get up out of bed. Not struggle like “I need my coffee in the morning or I’m a monster hahaha” I mean struggle like physically difficult to stand. I pour my neatly sorted pile of pills into the cup of my hand, I slam my hand against my mouth as the pills shoot into the back of my throat. I need them to be in my blood stream now but they won’t. I type next to a frozen window, cold medicine pumping into my bloodstream, traveling through my body like tree roots down into the earth. I have a pill for everything, It costs thousands of dollars to keep me alive and the tax payers pay it. Most wouldn’t, I think most would be happy to let sick people die as long as they did so outside their field of view.

I sway back and forth in my chair, the gentle movement of the muscles seems add some relief to my tortured spine.  Inside my body it is 100 degrees Fahrenheit and outside it is only 1.

            People with harder jobs than mine are going to work at earlier times than I do. I tell myself that they don’t have the pain I have, I hope its true because it makes me feel less shitty about succumbing to pain.

            There is a phrase in my head that I tell myself when it comes to work. “People can tell you they are dependable, but it takes actions to prove it”. This phrase is a double edged sword, it reminds me to prove my value but also is daunting when I am unable. I don’t remember where this phrase came from, it feels like something my dad said when I first started working, but it could just as easily been something my brother said or something I made up entirely based on my own experiences. This sentence has followed me longer than I can remember and pushed me even when I didn’t know it was there.

            One of my first jobs I pushed myself too hard, I gave the company all of my energy to prove I could be part of a team and in the end they fired me as soon as I was too sick to work. I worked myself to sickness and they threw me away. Years later I am starting a job and have hope again for the first time and yet I can’t bring myself to go. Pain and anxiety surge through me, fighting against my medicine, the winter winds blow through and creatures die from exposure.

            I never learned how to behave as an adult, I just watched my dad and made the rest of as I went. He never had illnesses like I do, but I try to be dependable anyway, with my actions. You can’t google how to be a good human or how to see the balance between working hard and over working. They don’t teach these things in school, they teach advanced math that no one remembers and history that I only remember because some of it was interesting.

Some days life is hard and its 1 degree outside.

Brian down the Hall

            Brian woke up with a stinging pain in his head, he opened his eyes and saw white lights in his vision.

            It was a cloudy day in August, the weather switched from hot to cold on a whim. On Monday it was blazing hot outside and on Tuesday it was raining, humid and warm. Brian woke up on a Wednesday. The sky was cloudy, a cool breeze blew in through the small space opened in Brian’s bedroom window. The thin sheet used as a curtain danced on the breeze as the sun shone through the white sheet. Brian dragged his hand over his face in an attempt to wake up. Brian would rub his face in the morning to feel more awake, he always thought this was because it made blood rush to his face and hopefully his brain.

            Brian stood up from his mattress on the floor, then stumbled as another shooting pain went through his head. His bed was covered in a cheap white sheet, similar to his window. He had one pillow and a small blanket to cover with. His studio apartment was a large empty space with sparse furniture and white sheets covering the three windows he had.

            Brian walked over to a small end table near his bed. The table was pressed up against the wall and directly under a window. On the blue end table was a glass pipe, a lighter, a metal railroad spike and a white coffee cup stained with coffee with the words “Rocker Cat” on it, below the words was a cat with a blue Mohawk.

            Brian opened his window a little wider, picked up his glass pipe and lit it. He inhaled deeply, held his breath then slowly exhaled. Thick smoke was expelled out through his mouth and nose. He felt his nerves ease and the pains he woke up with began calm. The sharp pain in his head continued though. He picked up the long sharp spike a delicately placed it against the right side of his head at the base of his skull and jammed the spike upward into his head. With a loud squish and crunch the pain finally was gone.

            Brian woke up on the floor with a smile on his face and a railroad spike sticking from the base of his skull. He stood up, rubbed his face again and picked up his “Rocker cat” coffee mug from the end table. He went to the kitchen with his cup, washed it out and made a fresh pot of coffee.

            While he went through his morning routine of washing up, making coffee and drinking coffee, the spike in his skull did not fall out, his head didn’t bleed and from the expression Brian’s face, the spike in his head wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. Brian had a series of scars around the insertion point of the spike, showing that he did this on a regular basis.

            Once he was dressed and had his coffee and other drugs, he stepped out of his front door into his apartment building’s main hallway. The hallway was old fashioned and looked like it was from the nineteen twenties. He was on the third floor and casually walked down each flight of stairs, passing rows of other apartments on his way.

            Finally Brian reached the exit to his building, opened the door and stepped out into the wonderful city of Hallows End. It was the modern age for monsters and the Halloween city of Hallows End had grown from a small settlement of creatures to a city of every kind of creature and misfit that the outside world was afraid of or disgusted with. Needless to say, Hallows End had some humans as well, politicians, lawyers and bureaucrats were all welcome. These humans had to follow the same rules as the monsters of the city and would be banished if they hurt fellow citizens.

            Brian wasn’t human though he had human friends. Brian was a wendigo, an evil creature born from human greed, cannibalism and taboo actions. So he had a lot going for him. He was humanoid, with two arms, two legs, he wore pants and a t-shirt, had paper white skin, deep sunken in eyes, sharp teeth hidden under thin pale lips, a shaggy head of white hair with a stripe of blue dyed in it and a railroad spike sticking out of his head.

 Brian the Wedigo tried his best to fit in with humans and other monsters but it was difficult to not kill and violate every living creature in the area, so he had to take medicine given to calm monsters and on top of that Brian was fond of smoking herbs that he found in the Dark Forest.

            Since Brian had rapid healing and damage to the brain didn’t kill him like it would to other creatures, he found that jamming a spike through his head was the only thing that would cure his migraines, it also helped calm his aggressive behavior.

            Humans only thought about monsters being acceptable on Halloween or when they visited Hallows End in October. The truth that no one really thought about was, monsters that exist on Halloween don’t just vanish after October ends, some do, but most don’t, monsters still have to go on with their lives or afterlives the rest of the year, trying their best to get by and resist the urge to eat children.

The World through the Magic lens

            I don’t know how everyone else sees the world, but I don’t think many people see it the way I do, the way I used to. I see things with vibrant colors, a person’s personality shines brightly from their eyes and some even have an aura around them that is as wondrous as fireworks or stars. Every tree has hidden secrets, the more unique in shape or size something is the more life I see in it. Once I saw large tree standing taller than all the other trees in the forest and my mind came alive, I saw the tree built into a giant tree house, then suddenly wooden planks and pathways spread out to the other trees and soon there was a whole town built up into the treetops. Or I might see it as a mystical tree, the guardian of the forest, a great elder tree with a face that is connected to everything in the forest and protects it from harm.

            I see something with my eyes and my mind puts a layer of imagination, possibility and emotions over that image. When a person genuinely smiles, when they experience a moment that catches them off guard and makes them feel that happiness, if I see that moment I am filled with my own happiness and so my emotions mix with the moment. I see a person smile and my mind shows me the light of the human soul. Even if its just for a brief moment and even if the light is dim, I see and experience something real for that second.

            I don’t think other people see the world like this, because if they did then smiles, rain, sunshine, trees and coffee and little things like that would be valued so much more than celebrity gossip, sex or money. I have nothing against sex and money but if offered the chance to either have infinite days of sex and money or infinite days of tranquil rain, tall trees, coffee, peace and stories, I think I would choose the latter.

            I see the colors of a person’s personality, I see the light of a soul, the possibilities of a large tree the bliss of the falling rain, except for when I don’t. I live off of imagination and creativity and it makes me whole. The day I do not see the rain as magical is the day I do not want to live anymore.

            My problem is pain, I have said it once and I will say it again. I am so familiar and intimate with the experience of pain that we should probably get married less we get struck down for living in sin. When my intestines aren’t being twisted like a pretzel then I have back pain, and if not back pain then joint pain. There is always pain. I can’t speak for the whole human race but I can say most Americans don’t live with the level of pain that I live with and certainly not at such a young age. When I talk about pain I am not complaining about a headache or a tummy ache, I am talking about the feeling of glass grinding in my bones and a knife twisting in my guts. The kind of pain that makes you not want to be alive or get out of bed. Luckily not every day is like that and I get to enjoy my coffee and rain and be content. The is also the double edge sword of pain medicine.

            Pain meds are these magical pills that wash over you and wipe away the pain, they make you feel good and the world seems right. That feeling does not last, but the numbness does. The pills numb the brain so you don’t feel the pain, but it also makes it hard to feel everything else. Taking my pain meds makes me loose my filter, my magical lens that I get to see the world in. Without the pills my pain slows me down and sometimes I lose whole days of my life to the pain, but without taking meds I can see the world in a more magical way. I get to see the world through my own imagination lens. Everything in the world seems more wondrous and the good start to outweigh the bad. Sure I am in pain but look how beautiful the sky looks after it rains! Its like the heavens opened up and you can see a glimpse of the afterlife.

            When I take the pills it keeps the pain at bay, the rabid dog that is pain gets put on a leash and told to behave. The rabid dog is still there but its calmed now. Then I start to see the world as I suspect others see it. A tree is a tree, rain is water that falls from the sky, it makes traffic more dangerous, coffee is only for waking up in the morning and when people smile its their happiness, not mine.

            I am always the same person but without the magical lens the world seems like a darker place. I am a better version of myself whenever I can manage to go a few days without my medication.

            Sometimes it rains while I am on my pain meds and I look outside and see only rain, I don’t feel the serenity or the calm that rain brings. I look outside and I remember how much joy rain used to bring me and I know there is a magical world of peace and tranquility right outside my window at that moment, but it is slightly out of reach and I just can’t see it yet.

            When it rains I see water fall from the sky, but one day the rain will take me back to that magical place. The place were water, wind and fog swirl through the air and the cool breeze refreshes the spirit, a place where anything could be waiting over the horizon. The best stories start on a dark and stormy night and the best adventures happen on a cool foggy afternoon.

Migraine

Jagged pain pounds in the base of my skull. Migraine. Such a simple word, so casual, so often heard that it barely invokes any emotion to those who do not suffer with it. Though migraines aren’t fatal that do cause suffering. It gets hard to think and hard to write when it feels as though a screw was slowly burrowing into my skull. Worming its way deeper into my head until it hits my brain.

            Headaches can be a nuisance but migraines can ruin your day. Though who deal with severe or frequent migraines know this first hand.

            I awaken feeling hung over, but I did not drink the night before. My head has a thumping pain, like a kick drum beating in my ear. The sharp pain of a knife enters my skull followed by the dull and constant pain similar to the moments after being struck on the head. I stand up on uneasy feet and fumble for the lights. I turn the light on, sharp daggers of light enter my eye and pierce through into my brain. I react quickly and shut the light off.

            After taking a moment to recover I try to move forward in the dark. My eyes start to adjust to the lack of light but my head spins and I feel dizzy and nauseous. Pain burns into the back of my head and it becomes hard to see. I feel as if I were dying, but I know I am not. I have been to the doctor so many times because of my pain. I have had so many tests done and they all point to one thing, migraines.

            I start the coffee machine and run to the bathroom. The pain has made me so dizzy it is unbearable. I vomit into the toilet. My head still hurts but I am less nauseous now. After brushing my teeth I take my pills. Pills for nausea, pills for migraine pain even muscle relaxers. I take the first two and put the third one back. I cannot afford to drug myself this early in the day.

            After my pills and a cup of coffee my migraine starts to recede. It doesn’t go away, it just becomes more tolerable. I spend my day with a dull pain in the base of my skull. I am functional but my mood doesn’t recover on days like these.

            For those who suffer know this morning routine all too well. Migraines might show up in the middle of the day or even at night, but it is always the same symptoms.

            So for now I rest. I take my pills and rest. Try to take my mind of the pain and hope tomorrow is better.

Letter from Geren

Beloved Alaria,

           

Since I’ve come to earth I have felt nothing but pain. The world itself is beautiful, the creatures living on it are another story altogether. The average human is completely self concerned, inwardly focused and selfish. They value status, rank and monetary gains over nature or compassion. The humans that do show any kind of goodwill are few and seem to always be fighting against the tide of either the unhelpful or the purposely harmful. Since we last spoke my body has been covered in scars. I still retain physical traits of my old self, but you would be shocked to see me as I am today.

The world weighs heavy on me as I go through each day trying to blend in with the modern populace. I find it is easier to go numb sometimes. When I first arrived here I cared about all things great and small, but this world has worn me down and made it difficult to care about anything more than the path directly ahead of me. These humans are amazing, the burden themselves with this harsh reality created by their own hands. They are as enduring and resistant as they are short sighted.

I miss you Alaria, I think about your tender blue skin and that sweet smile of yours and it breaks my innards to pieces. I will find a way home one day, I just hope when I see you again you will still want me. I fear I may be too transformed by this world that you may not even see me like you used to. I cannot think of this, I need hope that I will return to a world of light and peace. Even if I could never return home, I know I could survive this earth if I had you with me.

As I say this I feel a sense of dread. Having you for comfort would lift my spirits in such ways, but I could not picture such a beautiful star like yourself being trapped on a dirt ball like this. I would rather suffer alone than risk losing you to the cold harshness of the day to day. I continue to struggle, but having you in my thoughts gives me hope.

My dearest Alaria, I love you.

Geren-

Day in the life

            Pain boils over, every inch of his body screams out for the end of it all, for sweet eternal sleep that will stop they wretched struggle of being alive. His body shook as his limbs twisted and writhed. A lights and sound rush past him, strange voices are heard. Then he feels piercing pain in his arm. He winces but then feels a flood of calmness wash over his body. Calm and relaxation in liquid form rushes through his veins. Everything becomes peaceful and the world goes dark. This is not the first time he has had such an experience and it wont be the last time. His name is Joe and he is nine years old.

            Joe was born with illness and will live the rest of his life with it. Pain, followed by surgery or long hospital visits then weeks of recovery. Joe thinks about his father’s old car. His dad had the car for so long it was mostly made out of spare parts. Joe feels like that car. Always breaking down and made of spare parts. He wasn’t born lucky enough to have a powerful engine or a dent resistant frame, Joe feels more like a beat up old sedan. This nine year old feels more aches and pains and has a longer medical history than his parents and rivals his grandparents.

            Many found it impressive that a child could handle such a huge burden and they couldn’t even grasp how he dealt with the pain. Joe couldn’t understand or grasp what it felt like to not be in pain. This was life and he knew no other way of being.

            In the weeks of recovery that followed a big flare up, Joe had a lot of free time at home, more than a normal child would have. He would spend hours in his room and think or sometimes read his little books. But this favorite thing was playing video games.

            He heard a large round man acting important and saying bad things about video games. “They corrupt today’s youth” and “all games are violent and lead to more violence”. Joe didn’t understand most of this. The games he played were wonderful. One afternoon he saved the world, or at least made a lot of progress toward saving the world. “Saving the world is a big job to do all before dinner” Joe said to his parents one evening during dinner when asked about his games.

            His games let him fly airplanes and drive fast cars. He could help people and find magical gems. He beat up bad guys, solved puzzles and one time built a city. Some games even let him hang out with his favorite super heroes from the comics. Video games were pure joy to him. In a world where a nine year old is fighting against his own body because of disease and illness sometimes it was nice to leave and visit a different world. A world where the rules were fair and everyone had a chance if they tried hard enough. A world where you were important and powerful and evil didn’t win.

            Joe grew up playing games. They gave him hope and set in his mind a subconscious will to fight. He began to see his illness like the evil wizard of one of his games. A thing that made people sad that he could fight against. Something that could be beaten and lead him to a happily ever after.

            Years passed and there was always some fool who had a problem with video games, but luckily the games stayed and Joe had another world to escape to and a fight he always felt like he could win.