VITAMIN D

1. Who am I to think I am normal

Who am I to think I am normal? That I can be like that everyday person you see commonly on the street.

The one who can go out and enjoy the sunrise and sunset. Who can bask in the glory of the warmth that radiates off of the sun.

That adventures person who concurs mountains and tames oceans.

The one that falls in love raises a family of independent human beings.

The one who studies hard to accomplish their goals. Graduates college with ease and earns their dream job.

The one who speaks many different languages.

The one that travels.

The one that lives.

Yes that person, the one that isn't me...

~~
Currently stuck in my position my eyes have to do anything but the same.

Traveling everywhere. The sky, the road, the buildings, but most of all the people.

The crowds that walk along the street caught up in conversation. Or that one person with their eyes stuck to their phone as they walk to the unknown.

I study everyone and everything, knowing I will not be able to see it again when the sun rises.

The terrible sickness to my skin. The skin that has barely seen the light of day. The skin that is prone to the darkness and man made light.

"Sara we're here.," my mother says to me turned around from her seat in the front of the car. I don't say anything back. I keep my head to the window not wanting to miss even a small detail to the way they live.

My mother a tiny woman with kind brown eyes, dry hair, and a bright smile hops out of the car along with opening my door encouraging me to step out.

In seconds my seatbelt is unbuckled and I am ushered inside a marvelous building.

Twisted columns, heavy metal doors, and people. Lovely people that I never get to see.

A bright golden room comes into view. Waiters and waitresses rushing around with trays and notepads in their hands. A small band on the stage.

A lovely looking hostess wearing a green vest with a white shirt underneath looks at us disgusted but quickly covers it up with a fake smile getting her pen ready to write.

"Party of two?," the hostess asked already writing down and showing us towards the waiting room and begins a conversation with the couple behind us.

Some people are so immature. Especially when they see my skin, red rashes covering my body especially on my hands, neck, and feet.

I'd always been made fun of when I used to go to school, when I used to go out in the sun.

Oh, the redness and burning the sunlight brings. They would call me horrible names like red skin.

When ever I'm outside in the daytime and I don't have a cover up, my skin will turn red and feel like my skin is blistering in a fire.

Not many people have my disease as I call it. I've heard of people allergic to water, grass, and ants but being allergic to sunlight was never something I thought would concern me.

"So, what'da ya think?," I hear my mother ask from the seat beside me. She begins to wiggle her eyebrows but finally decides to sit down.

I answer in my monotone voice that she's used to by now," It could be better."

Ever since my father died when I was nine my mother and I haven't been as close as we used to be. Both still mourning his death we choose to take our own paths.

The hostess appears in the all so fancy waiting room holding her notepad. "Anderson, Party of two?," she asked looking up from the paper and flashing everyone her infamous fake smile.

A couple stands up with linked arms following the hostess. The woman wearing an emerald dress with green diamond earrings and pearls around her neck and the man with a white suit and green tie.

My mother smiles at me and nudges me in the arm playfully before realizing I was giving her a glare. With a nervous smile on her face she turns back around not paying me any attention for the rest of the night.

~~

Squinting every time a light passes my eyes out the car window I catch my mother glancing towards me every so often in the mirror but choose to not pay any special attention to it.

Being sixteen and allergic to the sun sucks. I haven't had a birthday party since I was seven. Well not a real birthday party.

No friends to bring me presents and wish me happy birthday. No going out to pick which cake I wanted because my mother was too lazy to make it. No shopping for decorations.

Just my parents bring me presents and wishing me happy birthday. Just my parents picking a cake that they thought was best for me. Just my parents shopping for the decorations.

I was especially disappointed on my sweet sixteen or just my sixteenth birthday.

My mother ordered a chocolate one layer cake and brought it to me and I ended spending that birthday in my room scarfing down chocolate cake whilst crying up a storm.

My mother found out she was pregnant with me on my fathers birthday. She had been feeling sick, grumpy, and all the traditional things. She didn't want to test any other day and my fathers birthday was coming up soon so she decided to wait till it came .

She had it all planned out. If she was pregnant she was going to throw an epic surprise for him. If she was not pregnant she would forget it ever happened.

Unfortunately I was developing. Yes this piece of trash I call myself.

Every birthday I have reminds her of the day she found out she was having a baby. That was also my fathers birthday so three days a year on my birthday, my fathers birthday, and the day my father passed away my mother does absolutely nothing but mourn.

This year I was lucky. She tried to bond with me on his birthday by taking me out when usually she would just sit in her room and not talk to anyone until the next day. Even though she tried doesn't mean i would forgive her so easily. Eight years of my life has been tossed out of the window all because of her. I doubt I will ever forgive her.

Closing my eyes I dream of what it would be like to be normal...