I wonder sometimes what it would be like to be a kid again. But a kid in this time, with better parents. I watch my kids takes risks everyday, they fall down and get up without so much as a thought at who is watching or if it hurts or not. I as a child never learned to ice skate because we were too poor to afford the skates, and we moved so frequently it was hard to find arena's that offered public skating when you only lived somewhere for less than a year. I want to be one of my kids, even just for a day. Live in the same house you were born in, have the same friends since Junior Kindergarten, have a parent that chauffuers you around to where you want to go, works overtime so you can play hockey or soccer or whatever your heart desires.
I want to be a kid again, I want to feel the wind in my touseled and tangled hair again. I want to be free again.
Hes dying of the zombie disease, the plague, black death everywhere. She cant even bring herself to look at his deteriorated condition, mostly out of fear and partially out of regret for letting him get this dreadful. Porous black holes present all over his face and body, well at least what is not covered by the simple gauze bandages that swathe his tiny frame. It is not curable the doctors tell her, but she believes in miracles and today is as good a day as any. She softly touches his face so he knows she is there, even though his throat is blistered and scorched from this deadly disease he makes a half attempt at nodding in acknowledgement. She hears the acid rain pour down, not drops but buckets, sheeting the hospital window and making it virtually impossible to see outside. She desperately needed the sun to return, to have this blow over, to make it safe to venture to outside; worlds unknown for quite some time now.
She holds in her hand, the paperwork from the good doctor, the paperwork that would end his life and changer her life forever. Its crumpled in a heaping mess, haphazardly lying beside the garbage pail she had tried to chuck it in hours earlier. For no one would she end his life, for no one would she carry out this responsibility. He would go in his own time, on his own accord. She briefly thought about this again, and dismissed the dreadful thoughts to oblivion.
Silently and carefully she slid into bed beside him, held him close to her seemingly larger frame, and just breathed. In and out, slowly and steadily, as not to wake him. She realized at this moment, while he laid there limp and pale in her arms, she would rather die like this than live without him. She could not live without him. So she prayed for the black death too, prayed it would be contagious and she could die with him. As soon as the nurse came in, a menacing larger women, with teeth that seemingly gnashed when she spoke, she jumped out of the bed and waited for the 10 minute warning, telling her visiting hours were over and forcing her to go home to that lonely house, the lonely bed, her lonely life. She kissed him once on the head and held it there for as long as she could and disappeared into the night.
I am watching a zombie marathon, hence the zombie influence.
I am also in love with this song, I never knew it until recently, being a baby or young child in the time it was made, but I have to say it rocks.
I've been in bed all day. You've obviously been inside your head all day.