It happened the day before yesterday. They're out. Through. Whatever.
I would have written something earlier, but I've been in the hospital - mom rushed me there when I started bleeding after a really bad muscle spasm, and they kept me there as soon as they got a look at Mount Saint Whatthefuck erupting from my shoulders. I got home early this morning, though.
I always said I wanted to be invisible, remember? Always wished for it, always hoped for it. I'll tell you now - I had it before; I just didn't know. And I'll never have it again, and I miss it more than anything. How can you miss something you never even realized you had?
My mother at least managed to stop the reporters from coming into my room at the hospital, but that's only going to last for a little while. 'Phage is still the hottest story in the news, for all that it's pretty rare, and I'm the only case to wind up with anything more impressive than dalmatian spots within a 45-mile radius.
It doesn't help that I stand out now like a daffodil in the middle of the lawn - taller, brighter, and just more.... there than everything around me. Because oh my god, are they bright. In my mind, I had always pictured something like the cheesy angel wings little kids wear in Nativity pageants. Little fluffy tufty white things poofing out from my back, maybe a foot or two. But nope; no such luck for me.
They're big - two feet above my head, down to my ankles big. I have no idea where they came from, or how they grew that fast, and the doctors say I'm lucky again that I can still move my arms. Apparently the last kid to grow wings like this - some boy out in Kansas - permanently dislocated both his shoulders as they emerged. Supposedly I have some kind of... they called it 'supernumerary scapular articulation.' I have no idea what it means, but it doesn't seem very super to me. Except I guess it is, because having no arms would suck.
They're not white, either. I'd say they're red and brown, but that doesn't even come close to capturing the sheer amount and variety of color inside. I never knew there were so many shades of brown in the world, or that they could glow from inside like that. Brown is dull, right? Boring. Dirt-colored.
Except it's also the color of trees, and raw wood that's been polished until it shines. And the earth as soon as you start to dig in the garden at the end of the spring, and sunlight through honey, and the rocks at the bottom of a river. And red, not crayola-red or fake-cherry-ice-pop red, but cardinal-red, sunrise-on-the-beach red, maple-trees-in-October red. I have a freaking summer sunset growing out of my spine.
I still hate them. No matter how glorious they may look. Stupid mutant extra limbs, getting in the way of my backpack and making it impossible to sit on the sofa or sleep on my back or ride the schoolbus like a normal kid.
On the other hand, I can stand up straight again for the first time since this all started. And they feel *right,* like they belong there. And standing outside this morning, on the back deck when I got home from the hospital, stretching them out....
I never knew the air had so many parts to it. I mean, you can feel a breeze, yeah, but that's all it is. Like a fan, air moves, but it's just air, and it's just one sensation. Maybe a little weird if it blows your hair and itches your neck, but that's all. This... I don't know how to describe it.
Once, when I was in ninth grade, I let Joey Madison put his hand up my shirt. Everyone made such a big deal out of making out and fooling around, I kind of expected fireworks. I thought my body would explode from inside when he touched me, that I would feel all sorts of amazing, thrilling, divine, lightning bolt sensations that I had never had before. But it wasn't; all it was was awkward, and a little clammy, and kind of ticklish.
Today, with the wind on my feathers (and how weird does it feel to say that?), felt like everything I had imagined that would be, and more. There are so many sensations, and so many details, and parts of myself that I never had before telling me things that I didn't even know existed yesterday. It's like waking up one morning and realizing that there's another color, and it's more beautiful than all of the others put together.
The doctors say I'm not strong enough to fly yet, but this morning the ground just seemed so full of threats and dullness and people trying to tie me down into being what they want, and the sky was calling to me - whispering promises of freedom and space, telling me I belonged there, touching me in places and ways I don't have words for....
I still hate them. I don't want them. I didn't ask for them.
But I might, tonight, try. Just once, to see what it feels like.
Maybe.Confused? Look here and here