By: Darth Sakura

An unconscious awareness she calls it, such a blissful stage.

A stage in which you can sense, feel, hear, and smell everything around you, but your body remains unconscious of itself. To her it is a blissful rest, not having to worry about anything and only smelling the very sharp scent of sterilization.

To her, everything smelled too clean and behind the curtain of her eyes, everything was too white.

Without opening her eyes she knew she was in a hospital.

It seems she had another attack yet again.

Breathing deeply she opened her eyes and looked around to confirm where she was. Yes, she was in a hospital. What hospital? She had no idea; too many places she has been, and too many hospitals have treated her to care.

Ever since she got sick, hospitals have become her home. A cruel, cynical, hurtful home that gives her medicines instead of hugs, blood test instead of smiles, cold hard beds instead of affectionate companies...

Looking how a nurse was checking her status, she wondered why the attacks have been more constant than years before. She has been having a lot of attacks this week. On a far away wall she saw an odd looking and vaguely boring white calendar, which made her remember the possible cause of her attacks.

Valentine’s Day.

Today is Valentine’s Day.

She hates Valentine’s days. No... not hate, she is not allowed to hate. Her condition has made her apathetic to such destructive feelings. It is more like the only day of the year that made her want to ask whatever presence is up there to skip this day and avoid her any problems.

It seems this presence did not want to listen, or was too busy laughing at her.

With a slow movement of the head, she saw in the small table covered in white knitted cloth, next to her bed, the medicines the doctors have recommended her throughout the years.

While looking closely, one by one, her mind sends her flashbacks of the beginnings of this torture. How she became distant from everything she once loved and cared. She threw the people that matter away, and became a walking statue with nothing inside but cold and hard barrenness.

First, she bitterly swallowed the big fluorescent pill.

It seems it all started when she was about five years old. Her parents had a very healthy and beautiful girl. Such innocence and yearning for love was reflected upon her big smile that made everybody who saw it surrender to her. Her eyes carried a carefree spirit, and her laugh would invade the thoughts of all her family, warming their hearts with beautiful dreams.

She was perfect for their eyes, at that point in time.

Then one day, when her dad came back from a big trip, she ran up to hug him and bid him a big and happy welcome. Unexpectedly, she started to cough out of nowhere. She felt like her tongue was suddenly being swallowed down her throat, not letting her breathe. She could not speak, and felt drowned by her own tongue. She started to cry; begging in whimpers and sobs for air. Her parents became so frightened, and did not waste another minute calling an ambulance.

It is then when they found out a bizarre illness runs through her veins and dominates her every system. The doctors could not tell exactly what kind of illness it was; they considered it to be an allergy. An internal allergy they could not figure out how or what triggers it. They recommended a few medicines, for the time being, they thought would help, and for a while everything came back to normal.

But the disease remained there.

She drank water right before taking the next little pink pill, so it would not harm her already sore throat.

Her next attack came a few months later when her mother kissed her forehead. Suddenly, all kinds of red spots covered her face and made her skin feel itchy and uncomfortable, like it was not hers anymore. She tried to stop her tears before they made the irritation much worse, and her mother rapidly took her to the hospital again.

Now the doctors realized, with grave displeasure, that signs of affections where the cause of her allergies. Her body reacted badly with any kind of warming contact from any person. Her body was too weak for the chemicals produced by feelings in the body. They also realized that, in a few years, her body would become so weak to the allergy, she could have severe and dangerous reactions if there are feelings that activates the smallest amount of chemicals. If it is not treated carefully, it could cause her death.

Death...

That night, while lying on her bed hugging her purple unicorn, she listened to the cries of her mother asking what she did wrong to have such an awful disease in her only daughter. Her dad tried everything to comfort her mother, telling her everything will turn out right. She fell asleep not noticing the tears on her pillow.

But things did not turn out right any time soon.

Throughout the years, she learned how not to hug, so she would not have that strange inflammation in her body. She learned not to kiss, so she would not spit out blood in other people’s clothes. She forgot how to smile, so she would be able to breath normally everyday. She forgot how to care for her family in order to not fall unconscious on the floor. There are still vague memories of what it feels like to cry because you cut yourself, to laugh at something silly, to scream in surprise and scowl because you did not get your way.

Her family loved her so much that they grew distant, and treated her like a common stranger. Cold stares became their own grins and embraces, assuring her with their avoided glances that she would be healthy because they would take care of her, shutting away her presence.

Breathing deeply, she now took the oval-shaped white capsule. That one was not one her favorite; the salty taste always remember her of her life.

Still, she tried to live like any other person. She tried to do extra curricular activates to keep her mind out of her cruel reality and at least pretend she is normal, like everybody else.

She first tried the piano, and for a while it was working. Even if there was some frustration of not being able to put feeling to her melodies, the tingling sensation of the hard wood, and the beautiful and easily manipulative sounds could take her mind away from her body, if only for a few moments. But as soon as her heart made a double flip at the sight of a piano while walking through a music store, she cancelled the classes and changed to something else.

-0-

Then she tried ballet, and as long as she was out of the way of everybody else, she could relax while moving left and right to the rhythm of the classical music. It was not the teacher’s instructions that made her move, it was the same soul of the music that told her what to do and how to do it. Such elegance was heard in the music; she could almost touch it through her shattered breathing and tensed muscles. Later one day, she surprised herself by looking forward to her coming classes, and in the next garbage she saw, she threw her flippers and walked slowly back home.

She tried writing, but making up all those kind of stories made her also force those feelings and emotions unto herself, and stopped at once.

The same thing happened with playing the guitar, drawing, singing, even chess she had to quit when she found it almost enjoyable. Still, she had to keep herself in other activities so she would not get depressed with such thoughts, and have some convulsions because of it.

Even if it has been years and years since she has been able to feel a thing, she has one pride in herself, and that is her voice. She trained her voice, with determination and hard work, to be able to reflect in high pitches sounds or heartbreaking faking sobs what she would have been feeling if she was like normal girl. If someone would just close their eyes and listen to her, they could almost imagine they are talking to a little girl smiling sadly. Dying to love, cry, laugh and scream above all.

Next came circular-shape white one. It was always so difficult to gulp down, but she still manages it even when she feels like throwing up.

When high school came, more complications arouse with it. Teenagers start to feel new things. Emotions start to burst. People starts to fall in love with one another, have crushes and in Valentine’s Day send flowers to those who care. It was a day that almost made her lose her life with one of her attacks after a secret admired put a small pack of chocolates on her table.

She asked herself how could someone love something so... hard? She never smiled, never frowned, got angry or even talked to someone else. Her parents had told her it was because she was beautiful. She looked one day at the mirror, and indeed she saw a beautiful girl look back. Her face was void of any lines produced by the emotions reflected on the face. Lines that told a smile had been there, a glare, a sulk, living marks that said she feels. She did not have those lines. She was the perfect example of a Greek statue. She knew deep inside she would give all of her splendor to have those blessing lines on her face. Yet, she remained a statue.

With faces full of crushed hopes, her parents send her away from everything she once knew afraid of having another episode like the one on San Valentine’s. They send her to a good reputation and only-girls-admitted high school. There they thought her daughter would be safe from harm, as long as she keeps taking her medicines and staying away from people.

And it was safe, for a while.

Her life consisted on going to school and have all her classes, come back to an apartment that was as empty as the first day she set foot in, and do her homework. Later she would practice one day the guitar, trying to remember her lessons, other day the piano, then the violin, singing, reading, enough not to cause her injury.

Then the same period of the year came, February. When everything out of nothing turned red, pink and white, and couples appeared just as unexpectedly. Flowers would be sold out; chocolates would be given. Torments would arise again.

The thing that came from it was a change of school to another only-girls-admitted high school.

It would follow the same pattern for a few years.

This year she ignored it all, praying yet again that nothing happens.

But, at the beginning of the week, small packages of gums with a red ribbon were found on her desk. A quick thump, like a lousy thunder, was heard in all of her body. She ran to the infirmary spitting again the salty and well-known taste of her blood.

The next day there was one piece of chocolate, and it sent her running with an inflammation all over her body.

The day after that, a paper with a small poetry on it, she woke up in the infirmary few hours later with a large bruise on her head.

On Thursday there was a small full red-blood rose. At first she did not feel anything, but then she realized her lungs where not allowing her to breathe. She started coughing harshly and her lungs burned with great intensity begging her let oxygen in. Tears covered her eyes and then everything turned black.

Swallowing the last pill of her medicine, she realized that the rose must have been the reason why she was now at the hospital instead of the infirmary of the school. She did not remember having her fit too seriously, but seeing bag of blood A next to her head made her understand how deep that attack affected her.

Suddenly she feels tired, too tired.

How can someone live in conditions like this? Does not everyone needs feelings in order to be human? Does not feeling make someone feel complete? To have someone care about her really made her consider if it was worth living as she has been all her life.

She should just accept, once again, the loving presence of another and let them love her and take care of her. She waits for that every single year just to fall into the arms of hostility reality when she realizes her disease would not go away any time soon.

Maybe she should just meet this secret admire and let him kiss her, hug her, even take her hand, just one touch. Just one touch to prove she can feel too, she is human too.

But the idea of dying...

The sound of the door moving drew her out of her thoughts just to notice a shy little guy of black hair, looking uncomfortably at the ground. He seems to think what to do or say. She thought that he must be visiting someone of his family, but when he looked at her with determination in his eyes she comprehended this guy must be his secret admirer.

Is it worth it? Is it worth living like this?

Taking a few steps close to her, he blushed, such a sweet skin color she has not seen in years, and said, “hi...”

Is it worth not living like a human being?

She could feel her illness, slowly and deathly, starting to spread through all her body, yet smiling for the first time in a long time, not afraid of the consequences, she answered back, “hi...”

Is it?