"It's Okay"

Swaying Illness

The illness took over me. Wave after wave of nothing, but pure intoxication of my own emotions. First was sadness, all the harsh memories of my life swirled passed me, bruised me. So many beatings from my mother, when she took this illness. Then kids mocking me for idiotic things. Arrogant children who pushed my ignorant child soul to the ground and called it hideous ungodly words. Then to my father who decided to finally meet me at the young age of sixteen. His eyes looking over me, lusting for me, until the day he forced himself upon me. God awful memories! I cry out in pain from the memories, my heart withering into nothing. It's useless though, because I have no neighbors. Except for John, who lives across the hall, I'm on and abandon floor.

I try to make it to his place, but I stop at my door. The next emotion sets in: Anger. An unearthly rage courses inside of me, racing through each and everyone of my veins. Taking over my body and soul and crumpling it, making me reduce to violence. Throwing and bashing everything in sight. Shattering lamps and overturning tables. I'm not particularly angry at anything. The mood swings are a mere side effect from the illness. I am not really angry, yet I'm here tearing my couch to shreds.

I wonder what this might sound like to John. Drug abuse perhaps? Domestic violence? That wouldn't be possible, I have no one. I try once more to get to John's apartment, and make it past my door and into the hall. Containing my anger made it hard to walk. I shuffle slowly towards his door like a stiff statue.

Feeling the plush red velvet carpet between my toes angers me. For no reason at all. The feel of the carpet used to relax me, now it angers me? The illness is strange, I may not know the reason for my anger right now, but the illness will tell me soon.

The anger starts to dissipate and I feel relief. I walk normally to his door, waiting for the next emotion. Before reaching his door, I look back down at the carpet. Then it comes, the fourth phase, realization. It's not the carpet itself that angers me, but more of the events that occurred on the red velvety plush. Flashes of the spurred memory come to me.

I stood here, in this exact spot. It was the evening of the annual "Heart" Ball. All cardiac surgeons were invited, a long with a date. My faroche personality was my excuse for not asking anyone. I knew no one and was too shy to ask a fellow surgeon. There was only one man I knew that I was not too frighten to ask, John. I came to his door and tapped lightly. When the door opened, John stood there, hair slightly ruffled and a hint of anger in his eyes. I politely, but shyly, asked him to the ball. Then there was a silence that lasted almost a life time. He then spoke and harshly declined my offer in various ways, slamming the door as a conclusion.

The anger was for everything that had happened in my life. I was angry with my father for defiling me. Angry at the children that shattered my young spirit. And especially angry with my mother for taking this retched drug. She harmed me to the point of me following in her footsteps. Now I take it, but at least I do not release my fury on others.

John opens his door and sees my troubled face. He hugs me and whispers how the phase will pass. He says this all with a smile, not a regular smile, but more of a maniacal one. It look almost like an uncontrolled smile. John is not controlling his own smile!

John is taking the Illness as well. It explains so much. I ask him why he takes the awful drug. It's not for fun, even though the feeling at the end is exhilarating. It is because he has a tortured past as well. He was beaten brutally by his own father. His mother abandoned him at the very young age of four. No one ever liked him. He never amounted to anything. I feel empathy for him. He offers for me to stay with him until the Illness fades. I agree and he lets me in. It is odd to see him so elated, even though I know it is not real. John must be screaming on the inside. Blood curdling screams that no man or woman can endure! He aches for love, but doesn't get it, so he drowns himself in this drug.

John's smile fades and reappears on me. The next stage for me: Happiness, for John: Alive. I sit still in the far left corner waiting for the stage to pass. Looking at nothing, but the wall and smiling at it like an imbecile. This feeling is one of my least favorites. There is no reason behind this feeling, it just comes. What is there to be happy about?

I look over at John. He stands near the balcony feeling the air. No doubt that he thinks he is flying. John begins to twirl and hug himself. My body fills with chills, thinking about the feeling he is getting. The marvelous feeling that can't come on a regular basis. The only way to get it is by taking the Illness.

John begins to dance around the room. Holding his right hand up as if it was clasped with a woman's. His other hand is around the "woman's" waist. I watch, amazed by how well his feet move. My smile widens an I clap for him. I am happy that he is feeling that way. I am happy that he is sharing the effect of this drug with me. I am happy for him.

He dances towards me, then stops and mumbles something. I assume he is talking to the imaginary women he was dancing with. I stop clapping as John bend down, bowing to me, and offers his hand. My smile fades and I take his hand. He starts dancing slowly, allowing me to get the rhythm. He laughs at my confused expression.

As we begin to pick up the pace, everything begins to fad. I begin to see what he sees. A solid black ballroom, with a white marble floor and red velvet curtains and table cloth. It is breath taking. I whisper "beautiful," and John answers with, "Isn't it?"

I begin to hear the elegant sympathy. Oh the beauty of it all! Our pace quickens to the music and as we twirl our outfits change. I am now in a stunning skin tight red gown with black shoes and matching boa. John is wearing s solid black suit with a single red rose in his jacket pocket. He plucks it out and puts it behind my ear.

This is the feeling I've been waiting for, for so long. The ecstasy! The thrill! The beauty! I feel alive. Nothing else matters but this moment. And dammit it feels exhilarating! My night is complete.

When the song ends, we bow and hear a roaring clap from the crowd of "people". John and I laugh and throw kisses to them. After we are done, John tugs me at the hand and we begin to run to his balcony. we stop just before step onto the balcony, except there is no balcony, just air. I look at him, he looks at me, and we jump. Feeling the air flow through our hair. I watch as the swirl of colors brush past me as we soar through the beautiful night sky.