The Love In Our Lungs

Chapter 22

The warmth of Missouri enveloped us as I invited Tyler to come to my house, we would paint the walls. My mother was having a talk with Tyler's parents, I knew what it was about. I let it be though. Neither of us was wise enough to talk without letting emotions control us, and even if we were professionals at it, the adults did a better job with it, with no tears in their eyes, or hesitation in their words, or harshness in their tone.

This talk was centered around Tyler's recent stay at the nearby mental hospital, for an act influenced by his manic behavior. I was in shreds when I found out, only a few days ago, we had been back from France, and this sudden change in demeanor started to show.

Stella and Dylan had already started munching on the red velvet cupcakes, despite my wishes, stating that we should wait for Tyler to get here. His parents dropped him off and left with my mother in the back seat. He looked drained from energy when he came out of the car, wearing a black shirt on a sunny day.

A heavy sigh left his lungs, and with the oxygen tank being grabbed by one of my hands, I held the other out for him to take. The force with which he pulled at me tugged harshly at the tubes on my nose. I was crushed against the material of his shirt as he hugged me, inhaling the scent of my hair.

"It happened again," he said. I looked at him, he had grabbed one of the tubes going up my nose, clenching tightly at it with his fingers. He feared not being taken seriously, that's why he held a stern look on his face whenever he was confronted with a conversation; that's why people were intimidated by him. It brought me to the thought of how fucked up life is. Did any of us really want to keep living, only for us to become used to the pain, the sadness, the hurt that cuts as a blade would to my arms? He was thinking the same as I was, we took tranquil steps to the house and entered to find our friends stuffing their faces with sweet cupcakes. Both Tyler and I grabbed one, and I couldn't help but make the comparison of its beautiful color, that the red which looked so similar to the liquid running out of my skin, dropping onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. I felt that choking wasn't enough.

I smiled at Tyler as I took a bite of the cupcake, licking at the frosting, "How would it be if your tongue was black?" he asked me. Much to my dismay, he caught onto the socks and decided to take that idea into his own hands. Now he would dress how he felt. It explained the black shirt, anyway.

Dylan and Stella were laying on the couch nearby the piano, Tyler then went to sit on the stool, placing his cupcake on the top of the wood decorating the piano, covering its internal mechanisms, which produced the stunning sounds that came out of it. He started playing Liebeslied, the calming notes hitting all of us. Slumping and succumbing to the love seat I currently laid on. A lumpish sigh abandoned my mouth and I felt my lungs contract.

I had just learned the greatest of things ever. I now had the knowledge of what it was like for another mind, one with a different life, but it felt real, not like a simulation (as much as I wished it was). During a period of the year I became a new person in this small portion of Missouri, my mind went through severe wounds in my thoughts and respiratory system. Then it suddenly struck me slowly, as an asthma attack would. My breathing would slowly constrict without me knowing, I was too late to prevent it or alarm and prepare myself for it to finally kick in. Then my eyesight would fail me, skin learning a new color, purple and little spots of blue, reminded me of the way I choke myself sometimes. And finally, I would wake up surrounded by white lights.

The cycle would continue, as did his condition, and on such short notice, I was alerted of this materiality. My eyes became bright, not because of the sunlight coming from the window and hitting my face, but because of the light water emitting from the corner of my eyes, where it met skin. Blinking, the liquid spread itself to my eyelashes and cheeks.

Friends surrounded me, Tyler stopped playing the piano, and they all asked the same question.

"What's wrong?" Rather, it is what is right and real.