Twice Again

Brave One

Evera. What a fitting name. Almost silly, if you ask me. "Brave one". Did they know I'd end up like this? 

Did my parents know I'd have to live every day, feeling myself fall apart?

Did my family know I'd lay awake every night, fearful of what I might have lost when I awoke once more?

Did the doctors know I'd be so lost? So stuck in my own head?

"What a beautiful girl you have," they all said. "She'll grow up to do such amazing things, just like her mommy and daddy!"

Now they just smile their pitiful smiles at me.

"Brave one".

Perhaps that's what I have to be brave about. The people.

The people who talk to me like I'm a baby. The people who won't let me do anything. The people who are afraid of touching me. Like I'm contagious. Like I'm a ticking time bomb.

Because really, that's all I am - a bomb. One that implodes.

One night, I will fall asleep, and I will never wake up again. I will drown, in open air. I will gasp for breath, I will be in pain, I will be afraid. They will give me medications. They will try to help me.

But I am a bomb. One that will destroy itself.

"Brave one".

At least I have my dreams. It's like I can do anything I want in them. I can walk properly. I can talk properly. I can move perfectly. I can gesture like everyone else. Some may dream of flying, but I dream of writing.

And sometimes, I dream about being able to do something, but when I wake up, it's the last time I'm ever able to do it. It's like my brain reminding me that I can do whatever it is, not once again, but twice again.

"Brave one".

It began with a bit of a twitch. And then I couldn't walk properly, I couldn't talk properly, I couldn't write properly. It all came tumbling down onto me.

Tell me, doctors, why am I like this? Tell me, nurse, how can we fix it? Tell me, scientist, how much longer will I live?

They don't know.

"Brave one".

Tell me, ALS, why did you choose me?