A Tale of Two Sisters

Chapter one: life's a bitch

Life is rarely as fairy tale perfect as books make it out to be. It's messy; things happen that cannot and will not be controlled. These acts are sometimes called fate. Whether you believe in the supernatural or higher beings or not, you simply cannot deny that sometimes, just sometimes, unimaginable, unexplainable things happen in this dull grey world. It's what gives our planet colour, what sparks off relationships, and what, most importantly, brings people together.

I strongly believe that music can cure all loneliness, if only for a few minutes. There is something special and unique about lying down in the middle of a room with music blasting from all angles. I don't need therapy; I just need an empty house and Fall Out Boy, I think to myself, as memories from the past flicker through my head like an old fashioned lamp low on gas. I quickly dispel them, and focus on the pounding bass of 'save rock and roll'. Frantically mouthing the lyrics, I probably look like a dying fish gasping for air to anyone that can see through the windows, But, for once, I don't care. I need this music to keep me alive; I need the lyrics to inspire me and the harmonies to distract me. I need my memories to be completely engulfed by the physical thing that is music.

I've had a rough day, though this is not unusual. I'd gone into school just to have my headphones in constantly so I didn't have to talk to anyone. I felt too unwell to move, too unwell to think, and definitely too unwell to learn. Yet there I was, head bent over a maths book trying to understand simultaneous equations.

Nobody understands that saying 'get well soon' is incredibly demoralising, because it makes me remember that I'm not going to get better. I'm in this gig for life, and as much as I'd love to wake up one morning and go 'WOW! My joints don't hurt! I don't feel sick! My head isn't pounding! My pulse isn't racing!' It's not ever likely to happen. They also don't seem to understand the whole concept of 'chronic illness'. It's not cancer, I'm unlikely to die from it, but I'm not going to get better either.

I'm a completely average 16 year old girl, except for the fact I have very few friends, a music taste deemed 'weird' and a debilitating medical condition called dysautonomia. I'm faith. nice to meet you, reader, what's your name? What's that? No, sorry, I can't hear you. I'm just going to call you Bleu, I hope that's okay.

So, Bleu, do you believe in fate? In miracles? Because right now, I'm praying for one. I'm laying here mouthing along to 'miss missing you' by fall out boy, questioning the meaning of life and coming up blank. To put it simply, there is no meaning; there is no point to being here, but for some unknown reason, here we are, crawling the world like insects on fruit; taking what we want and leaving the indigestible parts behind.

The world hasn't changed since the Greeks, since the Romans, since the Vikings, since the discovery of America. The way we think May have changed, the technology may have too, but it does not dispute the fact that we are still the same race of people screwing everything up. We are a selfish species, dominant over everything but ourselves, too wrapped up in our own problems to see the big picture. We are obsessed with possession, and gaining positions of power, when the real problems are within ourselves. The way we work is corrupt; people are able to kill hundreds of their own kind in war and have it be honourable, and yet helping a dying man in unbearable pain die is inhumane and results in a prison sentence.

We are all part of the same world, Bleu, and yet countries are thinking of blowing the shit out of their neighbours because they believe their bit of the world is better. Quite frankly I don't want to have anything to do with it, but here I lay, unable to move because I don't have the motivation. I am not stupid enough to think that one person can change billions of people's views, and I'm know I'm not the only person to have these thoughts, but in my personal opinion, this world needs nothing less than a miracle.

I, myself, could do with a miracle too, Bleu. As much as I'd hate to admit it, i am part of this group of selfish people known as the human race, and I do have my own problems. I feel empty and pointless, no matter how much fall out boy I pound into my head. It seems music can cure loneliness, but not emptiness, despite them almost being the same thing.

From an outsiders point of view, there is nothing much for me to complain about. I have two parents who love me unconditionally, a sister who I rarely argue with, and a roof over my head each night. I have access to almost any food and drink I desire; I couldn't be happier. And yet I still feel empty; almost like some important part of me is missing. I can't put my finger on it, but the fact still remains; something is deeply wrong.

Stretching my joints and rolling over, I decide my music time is over for the next week or so; my mum will be home soon, and despite her sharing my taste, she wouldn't appreciate me laying in the middle of the floor listening to music so loud it makes the glass shake.

According to my phone, it's about 7:30pm. I have an hour to kill before she gets back, so check Facebook on the off chance anyone might actually want to talk to me. Unsurprisingly I have a grand total of 0 messages, though my friend Mitchell is online. Before I get a chance to say hi, he sends me a simple 'Caio?' And conversation begins.

Mitchell is one of those people I hope I'll know forever. He helped me through so much, and despite our differences and me being a bitch, has been very kind to me. I owe him my life, and that goes without saying. I may not be able to be myself around him, but he's the closest thing to a best friend I've ever had. But if I have him, and a couple of other friends, then why do I feel like someone is goddamn missing? Come on out, stranger, show yourself, who am I missing?

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Unedited and submitted from my phone, so I apologise for any errors

Xo