Everyone wishes they get a fairytale ending. Some get it, some don't.
Life's funny like that.
* * * * *
August 23rd, 2017
"Ok, that's enough of that," says Mr. Smith, earning a sigh from the whole choir as the music sheets are being handed over to him.
We have been learning this song for about three hours now, and our throats hurt, our brains hurt, and we are dead tired.
"Come on, we need to sing 'Die Frau Ohne Schatten' at least once as well."
This time he earns a groan and pleading looks from the whole choir. Did I say the previous song was hard? Scratch that. This one is the hardest song I think we have ever sung. The high notes are insane, and it's in german.
"Isabella, can you please give us the tune?"
The pianist nods and places her hands above the piano. We all take a deep breath and prepare for the hell ahead.
And then she plays the chord that signals 'Happy Birthday'.
We all let out a relieved sigh and start singing along.
"Mulți ani trăiască! Mulți ani trăiască-"
Hold up, it's for me! I realize with a laugh. As of today, I am fifteen years old. I quickly make my way to the front of the room, where I stand in front of the whole choir while they are all looking at me.
"La mulți ani!"
I grin widely from ear to ear, feeling overwhelmed. Every year it's the same, and still, it makes me very emotional.
"Joyeux Anniversaire! Joyeux Anniversaire!"
I laugh at Mary's poor attempt at jazz hands.
"Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!"
I realize it's been more than a year since this madness started. Since I was sitting in this exact room, trying to figure what is going on with me.
"Happy birthday dear Lyla..."
And now, I am sitting here, on medication, but with little to no tics. I can stand in front of many people without the shame and fear of what they will think when they see me do all of those things.
"Happy..."
I am happy. That part of my life is finally over.
"Birthday..."
It made me stronger. It made me realize that not getting a good grade on a test or my crush not liking me back isn't the end of the world. There are far worse things. Like Tourette.
"To..."
And I overcame that. And if it comes back, I know I'll win again.
"You!"
Everyone rushes forward to hug me.
It looks like I got my fairytale ending.
YOU ARE READING
The Tourette Diaries
Non-Fiction"This is Lyla Green. She is 16 years old, tall, and has long brown hair. She is pretty shy but very caring and creative." This is how a person would describe me normally. The usual. General facts, appearance, and personality traits. "This is Lyla Gr...
