that same sick light that comes up and appears like a ghost

1782563_10152826902093797_1501970693_oSo last week I was out sick and stuff from MS and stuff. It’s strange looking back over that, time spent with steroid infusions and the way it felt and all that. I’m not all recovered now, not even. But I can move and think a little and do enough to get back to work and it’s just strange right now, everything is strange. It’s like I just woke up from a dream and it’s all fuzzy around the edges and everything is like that moment, let’s say as a child, let’s say you wake up and you dreamt of someone some friend who doesn’t even exist. And you wake up wondering what happened, and why is it thundering and full of autumn outside, when inside it feels like summer still? You want to go and climb trees with that ghost girl from your dream and maybe throw rocks at the sun.

And you realize she’s part of you somehow.

Anyway, it’s kind of like that thinking back to last week. Or even, well, it reminded me of when I would call home sick and vomiting when I was a kid, and I was on the couch now like I was then, and I felt weak and drained in the same way. And both times I couldn’t concentrate on anything, I tried, and I couldn’t. The world was lit in the same way both times, the way the light came in, yes, it was the same light, the sick light. I wanted to touch it. Maybe it was only a light in memories?1523363_10152827945173797_781754456_o

But I remember, yes, I remember. I remember last week. And how it felt like when I was in elementary school and on the couch, and my mom taking care of me. She even drove to the library to get me the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to read in my sick hours. They were watching the movie in school and I was sad that I missed it. That’s what it was, yes. She wanted to rent the movie, but it was a small town and believe it or not, my class rented the movie from the library so she couldn’t. Still, the book, I remember that. Sick hours and books.

And then when I was in High School. Sick vomit sick on my bed in the basement, for days straight, the same light, that same sick light that comes up and appears like a ghost around me. And also I remember when I had my appendix removed. Months of that, months of the sleeping all hours, of waking with strange lights and memories. Of watching sitcoms and reading books. Something connects all of that, something brings them all together.

1047948_10152826901818797_1822993307_oYes, I was a sick kid a lot very sick. And now I’m sick all the time again, and it’s strange maybe. Maybe in my sick hours I find strength, that light comes out of me and yeah now there is something else here, and I’m reading and writing. And maybe that, maybe all those hours wishing I would die to stop the pain or vomiting or whatever growing up defined this part of me, let it grow inside of me, let it come bursting into the night, lighting all of it all bright and full of worry.

Also- I call these pictures my relapse war wounds. Those are all from the same day. Not including the Copaxone shot I gave myself in the evening that nicked a vein.

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