You decide to take a nice long walk. You need some inspiration and life is piling up on you.
You’re feeling all alone. You know you’re gonna break soon.
You think about all of the difficulties you’re trying to overcome right now: family annoyances and disputes, friends with drama who need your support, a breakup, being jobless, the loss of a baby, soley caring for Mom after her stroke, your own health complications and all of the numerous deaths that have been occurring recently.
It’s no wonder your cluster headaches have increased dramatically.
It’s all too much and you can’t take it anymore. You realize that you want to run away more now as an adult, then when you were a kid.
Why do you always have to be the strong one? When do you catch a break? You begin to wonder if you really are coping well with life, or if you just don’t care anymore.
You realize that now is not the best time to quit drinking.
But, you’re walking around life in a haze, putting on a smile, uninspired to do anything, anymore.
Yes, a nice long walk will be good for you. You need the fresh air to blow the cob webs out of your head.
You gear up in your favourite sweats and hoodie, plug in your noise blocking headphones, blast your eclectic playlist of music, grab all of your old stale bread and head out the front door.
You find a dime on the ground. It’s heads up. You pick it up and make a wish. You give yourself a half cocked smile, thinking your luck is finally picking up. It’s about time.
About an hour into your foot travels, you’re doing well and your mind is becoming clear. You’re humming along to songs and you’re doing a little two step. You start bopping your head to the tunes. You feel good.
You feel happy again. You see lots of smiling people. Kids are playing street hockey and everyone is walking their dog. The birds are probably chirping but you can’t hear them. They look happy too.
You wonder if birds can smile like humans. You wonder where the racoons go in the winter. You wonder why the snow never melts on some parts of the grass. You wonder what clouds are made up of. You wonder where the sun goes when the moon comes out. You wonder if you should write a book. You wonder if the sky is blue because it’s a reflection of the ocean. You wonder when the books you ordered online will arrive. You wonder where the closest coffee shop is.
You stop and sit on the bench at your favourite spot by the river. You light a smoke and feed the squirrels. The pigeons come and you feed them too. You’re happy you brought the bread and did a nice thing for these cute, little furry animals.
You come to realize, that you are indeed, quite awesome.
You feel like you really are a Girl On Fire.
Two hours later, you get back to your building with a much needed, fresh outlook on life. You have a hot coffee in hand and you have a new found positive spirit and you’re feeling nothing but good vibes.
No one can bring you down. Nothing can turn you around. Not today.
You decide to walk up 17 flights of stairs to your apartment. Your knees will hurt like a bitch when you get there and your feet will be swollen, but you can’t let Fibromyalgia take over your life. Today is your day.
Girl on fire! Remember!
You get to the 10th floor and there is some mysterious liquid on 3 of the 7 steps. It’s not yellow. You smile in relief. Since you can’t decipher what exactly it is and you really don’t wanna step in it, you decide to hang onto the hand rail, and attempt to take those 3 stairs at once.
As you hoist yourself up to the top step, your right wrist buckles. You lose your footing and slip. You fall down the stairs. You spill your coffee on yourself. Your arm instantly starts hurting. The Fibro is back and is angry at you. Now your right arm is on fire. You curse profusely in your head, using every curse word ever known to man.
You slowly get up and start to see tiny little silver stars. You feel dizzy. You believe some mythical being finally pulled your crazy pin and you’re now officially going insane. You’re thankful you pre-ordered the padded room at the looney bin a few years go.
How much more can you possibly take?
You steadily walk down the stairs to the 9th floor. You hazily open the door to the hallway and walk down the corridor. You take the elevator the rest of the way up. Screw the stairs.
You get into your apartment. You’re back really hurts and your short lived happiness has flown the coop. You kick your shoes off and throw your jacket on the floor. You look in the mirror and see a bump on your forehead, to the right. It’s not bleeding but when you touch it, it hurts like a mother. There’s a scrape on your hand. That is bleeding. You have a big bruise on your right arm and your left knee.
As you walk to the bathroom to wash the blood off of your hand, you notice you’re limping. You take your socks off and realize your 3rd toe in on your right foot is swollen like a bitch. You start cursing some more, out loud this time. Your cat becomes scared of you and runs away.
You open up your when in doubt closet and see that you’re coincidentally, fresh out of Band-Aids. You remember that you used them all up when you burnt your fingers last month making dinner for your Mom. You tape gauze to your swollen hand in an attempt to stop the bleeding. You do the worst tape job of your life.
You take this moment to look at all of your war wounds.
You sit down on the bathroom floor and close your eyes. You suddenly realize that you are, truly, all alone.
You close the bathroom door.
You have one of the biggest cries of your life.
When it rains, it pours.