I have always wanted to fly. Not like at American Airlines I mean me just up and flying like the blue jay thats always in my backyard. Thats probably why I have always loved trampolines. The way each and every stitch is weaved like my grandmas easter egg baskets. Every piece of my curly brown hair floating until I slam down and it smacks me in the face. The wind putting its hands underneath your arms and lifting you up as if you were its child. And I would play pretend. I would always imagine I was a superhero who knew Tae Kwon Do. Karate chopping, kicking my feet in the air. My feet barely feel the embrace of the springs. All they embrace is the wind wrapping itself in between each slightly webbed toe. The wind is silk fabric swiping against my sweat covered skin. The sweat on my forehead slowly beads down my cheek and drips onto the vibrating trampoline. But I still kick my feet in the air and my back bows down the fabric of the trampoline. Next thing I know it springs me back on my bare feet and I’m ready to kick some more butt.

I have always loved kicking in my old paint chipped front door. I loved feeling like Superman, saving the helpless. But today my foots not the one kicking in the door, its my moms zip up high heeled leather boots. after she gets the door open, she quickly hops to me. My balance so reliant on the cool metal railing on my porch that I had forgotten was even there. My heart is beating, as if its in a cartoon, so hard that I’m afraid it’s going to pop out of my chest and punch my mother in the face. I can barely feel them. Why won’t they move! I grab my thigh and clench my teeth. I can’t stop shaking. I feel like a damn chiwawa. Its like my ears stopped working, like in the movies where when the girls about to faint and her hearing gets all funky and her eyes only sees the blurred out figures of the people she loves. I never experienced shock before but I think that when you feel anger, fear, and frustration all at once and you end up feeling completely numb, you’re in shock. I clasp onto my mom like one of her fancy diamond bracelets. “Mom I’m scared.” She keeps her straight face and doesn’t speak a word. Why isn’t she talking to me? She drags me into my dark bedroom and gets me in bed. Underneath the covers is so cool. I feel the goosebumps rise on my shivering pale skin. She looks at me and smiles, “Its going to be just fine peanut.” But her worry was painted on her face as if Vincent Van Gogh stroked it on himself. My legs couldn’t pick me up. I couldn’t move my slightly webbed toes without an electric pain shooting up my calf into my thighs. My lower half was not moving. I knew there was something terribly wrong with my legs.

I lay there motionless. My eyes gazing out my window watching as the wind blows the trees and makes them sway. Just seeing the summer sun slowly get dim. And my trampoline sitting there, waiting. Will I ever move again? I just want to feel the dewy grass between my painted toes again. I turn my head to the wall that my bed side was up against. I reach out my left hand and I feel its cool radiance and its bumps and grooves. I run the tips of my fingers over them and they send off a constant sensation. Is this even real? “Kayla? Hey its mommy. The doctor says that he doesnt know whats going on with your legs yet but he will know soon.” I don't bother to turn my head from the radiant white color of my wall, “Okay.” Even though I couldn't see her face I knew sadness was growing on it like moss. Its been a week and I’ve been able to gain some strength to walk three times.

The semi-scratchy fabric of my quilt has grow way too familiar to my fingers. Movies are my only refuge. I memorized every song from grease, and sadly, even grease 2. “Well this car is systematic, hydromatic, ultramatic. Why, it could be Greased Lightnin'!” I’d belch. Sometimes I would even pretend I was Sandy. And when Danny treated her as if she were only an object in front of his crew I would say “Ugh, you know you love her!” It was like my reality was fantasy and fantasy was my new reality. Its like I could feel the blisters of their high heels and the tightness of Sandy's leather pants. I could feel the heat and the burn going down her throat and into her lungs with her first cigarette puff. But when the car went flying in the sky and it was all over, all I saw for my future was a wheel chair. And nothing about it seem like it could be remotely near Greased Lightnin’.

People came over and we repainted our paint chipped toe nails but I never uttered a single word about the pain that was continuously ripping away my freedom. And they never knew anything was the matter. When they left I went back to my insignificance and stared out my foggy window. I watched as the stars would shimmer as if I threw glitter at the darkness. This is how I knew there was beauty in the world. Though my mom cried and prayed on her aching knees looking for the answer, I knew that there was beauty and love in her. Even when she was sobbing so hard she couldn't speak, she knew that God had his plan. I believed that there was beauty in everything but me. I prayed that God would change my situation. But everything stayed as it was. But I still believe. I walked 4 times.

I shake her relentlessly until she opens her tired crusty eyes. When she does I whisper, “Sarah you wanna jump with me?” She nodded. I remember how she loved jumping with me. She was 4 and her mom would never let her jump but I would always find a way to sneak her out at night. “Shh! You got to stop giggling or the monsters will catch us!” “Monsters!?” She said with fear in her lungs. “Yes but if you’re with me and you stay quiet they won't get us!” We race to her trampoline. I climb on and hull her up. Once we start to jump, we pretend like we are astronauts exploring the stars. We name each star we find: GiGi, Fred, and Aloe. The midnight air welcomed us as if we were one of its own. We start getting tired and we plop down onto the vibration fabric. She curls up under my arm and whispers, “Kayla, thank you for letting me explore with you.” I mess with her wavy blonde hair. “You're welcome munchkin.” I was 8.

I’m on the stiff couch, once again, and the hours seem to fly by. Probably because I’ve been binge watching tv for weeks. My mom runs to the front door and flings it open. “Kayla guess who’s here!” My mom yells with excitement as my cousin Sarah runs through the door. She yells “Kayla!” as she jumps on top of me. Shes 12 now so she's grown much bigger and heavier. I feel my body sink into the couch and her boney figure dig into my skin. “Ugh! Sarah you’re getting way too big for this.” “Oh you love me. I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” “Hey don’t sweat it. I missed yours too.” Months ago seem like years ago. Like my sweet 16 didn’t happen this past April, it was like it happen 5 years ago.  I’m never going to be happy again. Smile and show them that you’re ok. But I knew I was lying to them. I was always terrible at lying. I’m surprised they haven’t noticed. But I think they did, they were just desperate to think that the lies smeared on my swollen face were in fact true.

Next thing I know I’m in the doctors office. I wish it didn't smell like stale potato chips. Sarah's playing flappy bird on her phone. I don't remember how I got here but I probably was like a zombie. I really need to start paying attention. I shake my head slightly. I gather all my strength to push up and sit forward. I hear my mom whispering to the doctor. He doesn't seem too concerned. Thats a good sign, I think. “I dont know whats going on with Kayla but I would like to schedule her for a MRI.” Great now I get to be stuck in a plastic hollow tube for 3 hours. I feel like some test subject. Or a foreign thing that they want to prick and test. Just put me in a test tube test me for sick as hell and it would come back positive. I used to be deathly afraid of needles, like I see one and my eyes roll back in my head and I hit the floor like a basket ball, now they don’t even make me flinch.  I’m really tired of hospital beds and nurses that pity you.

The MRI lady says that they have to put ink in me through my IV in the middle of the procedure. “Why are we doing that?” I ask with frustration in my voice. The leather of the bench I'm sitting on is sticking to my leg and every time I move I feel like my skin is being torn off. She didn't deserve the sass I gave her. “To check for MS. Didn’t you know thats what we are looking for?” Holy crap! What the hell is MS?! “No I didn’t know. I think that you should have been more clear. But it won’t hurt right?” “Of course not!” I am walked in by the lady and she sets me up on the bed. I feel it's cool radiance on my skin. Kinda reminds me of my bed. “I recommend sleeping. It helps.” then without warning, she shoved me into the tube. Maybe she did deserve some of that sass. I completely passed out. It was like someone roofied me.

Now I’m in chevy Impala and some guy is holding my hand. When did I get here? It's dark out and the guy is silent. He's driving but he's smiling. We are listening to some old classic rock cassette. He has brown wavy hair, he has an old white tee on, and a nice pair of blue jeans. He reminds me of Jared Padalecki. I am barefoot and I feel the heat wrapping around the top of my toes. He turns to me and says, “Where do you wanna get some grub?” Really grub? lame. “We can go to chipotle?” Now we’re talkin’! So Mr. Charming drives us over to get some chipotle and I realize that we are the only ones there. Not that it actually matters, it's just a dream. I gain the confidence to ask, “I’m sorry but what's your name?” “It's not important. But what is is that you know that this is just temporary.” He says as if he were trying to ease my pain. I know this because he slowly pushes a strand of hair out of my face,I felt his rough hands graze my cheek, and around my ear. I reply with confusion, “Well yeah it's a dre-” “No. Not the dream. Your legs.” and I woke up to a nurse saying I was free to go. I sat up and felt ice on my heels. It was only the floor. And yes, when I left I got chipotle.

I took them for granted. The way they curve and bend the way they catch me when I jump. There was just something poetic about how I feel about losing a vital part of myself. Honestly, I'm not all that surprised that in one moment my dreams could end. I've had multiple dreams for my future and they all have to revolve around this never ending cycle of pain and sorrow. But I keep thinking of my dream. Was I trying to comfort myself or was my body trying to tell me something. But all I know is that I can think, One day I’m going to have kids. Then the doctor will say, “Kayla your odds of pregnancy are slim to none.” Or the second time I visited, “You have a chance that you may become infertile.” And because I'm always so sick I never have time to get out, so no boyfriend. And how long will this last? I want to get married someday. I want to go to college. But it looks like I'll be sitting at home. Looking out the same damn musty window, watching as my dreams drift away from me. But is this only temporary?

My hair is so beautiful when its all curly. The way it bounces. I love when my mom comes in and brushes it. Each bristle separating each strand. Its helps me forget. “Mom, did Dad say he was going to visit me soon? He promised.” She kept brushing my knotty hair at the same pace. “Kayla I don’t think he’s going to be coming. You should call him.” My mood doesn’t really change. I’m used to the disappointment. He never visited. And thats just fine.

“You like him don't you?” My friend Katie says with a smirk on her face. Pointing to the tall broad shouldered dream boat that looks like he was meticulously designed instead of born like the rest of us. He’s so handsome. The way he curves his spine so slightly as if he thinks he isn’t worthy of time and the way his hand massages the back of his neck like the stress of life is overcoming him. The way he shifts randomly from one fixed position to the next. Every slight movement attracts me to him. “Yes, but he doesn’t even know I exist.” All I can do is stare and dream. I could never make him see me in the light that I see him. He will never ask me to prom. And I will never be asked. I just want someone to look at me the way Danny looks at Sandy. Someone to grasp my hand so tight as if they were afraid to lose me. Touch is so foreign to me. Sometimes even the slightest graze of soft skin against my fingers confuses me. Touch in some ways scares me. My body made sure that when I got better I would have no one but Katie and crippling anxiety. If I knew that my dream of being asked out would be ripped away from me I would have tried harder to walk a year ago. I would have hid my POTS way better. It’s all my fault. But I know I couldn’t have. I’m meant to be alone. There is no one to smash a cig in front of their face and make him want me even more than he already does. There was no romantic summer at the beach. I may not have a future after high school so I'm trying to make it count. I’m scared it won’t be enough. I’m scared of everything. And it makes everything difficult. I feel as if with every day that gets closer to the end of senior year, my breath is going with it.

My body is my prison. But what did I do to get a life long sentence. I’m stuck in this bed my legs feel like they are killing themselves. Its probably for the best. Less of me to cause pain. Don't get me wrong I want to fight but I'm fighting against my own flesh. All I have now to distract me is my old window that shows me the passing season and the TV screen showing my moms old movie collection. Pulp Fiction, Lord of the Rings, and Breakfast Club take up most of my time. I have to admit I can’t get enough of those movies, but once my gaze is fixed on the old window my feelings hop on this roller coaster. You know what? Screw this! I was tired of feeling depressed. So I got up. Then I fell, oh hey I found my Chapstick, but I pushed back up again. I did that over and over till my mom shoved me back in my worn out bed. I was looking for that chapstick for quite a while.

I won’t let this be it. I got up and I held onto the bed beside me. I slipped on my rainbow slippers and I walked all the way to the kitchen. I paused in between and held onto my aunts grandfather clock. I heard it chiming. I heard every second passing by. I felt the old wood beneath my fingers. I can do this. Everyday the distance grew more and more. My mom cheered me on and I was determined not to live the rest of my life in a damn chair. I have to admit that that pain does come back sometimes but I'm not in a chair. I never owned one and never will. But I will be forever fighting with my own body. And I don't have many friends - one to be specific. Once I’m out of high school life will get easier. I’ll be able to make friends and I’ll be able to learn to take care of myself.

The bed seems like its in love with me. The pillows curve my spine so slightly as if to help the time pass me by. My shoulders relax and broaden allowing my breath to flow easier. My mind pounds and sends pain down my neck. I massage it to take away my minds forever radiating stress. But it only lasts for a short time. I shift my tired eyes to the empty space next to me. I’m alone and my room seems empty even though its full of my stuff. There is nothing to hold onto. I don’t know what to hope for. My tailbone aches and I shift my fixed position. My teeth clench from the pain. I am comfortable on my left side. I lay my right hand in front of me and rest my head on the warm pillow. My eyes slowly shut and my heart imagines its great escape.