A Phoenix Tale
by Nike


I lean back on my chair, wiping sweat and damp hair from my brow as I review my work with a deep satisfaction. I had been writing since late last night and it is only now that I have finished. I smile and stretch my body a few minutes before switching off the computer.

I rise to my feet and pad silently back to my room, sliding the door shut behind me. Because of the early time - the sun has just barely started to rise over the eternally-distant horizon line - I am the only one awake in this large house; my parents and older brother are still asleep, and I have no wish to wake them - early morning and late night are my hours, the times when I can think about anything I please without worrying about being interrupted.

I stand by the window, positioning myself so that I can watch the encroaching sunrise and yet remain safely in the shade. It spills, like blood, across the pale expanse of the sky, the sun slicing easily through like a swordblade sliding into vulnerable human flesh. I make a cup of my hands, cradle my chin in them, pensive as I watch the sun rise. In my mind, I hear the music that played a long time ago in my youth, in the radio. I could remember sitting on the ground, wide-eyed and childish, listening with adoration as the box-like machine created a haunting piece that I have often tried to emulate on my flute, much to the chagrin of my brother. But there is a part of it still missing, one key phrase I haven't quite figured out yet.

There were words to it as well; even though years have passed since I last sat down and the music work its magic, I still remember every last word, clear and ringing like a bell. It was a sad song; told from the viewpoint of a lonely soul who had certain dreams but something happened that made him unable to return back to them. I never understood why I remembered those, out of everything that had come out of my childhood, until about six years ago. To be specific, the day my Mom came to me one day and told me something that changed my view of life itself.

Let me start at the beginning. My life had always been enshrouded in danger for as long as I can remember. So many diseases and accidents had passed me by, each of them nearly successful in snuffing out my life away. But, no. I considered myself too strong for them. I was a phoenix. Nothing can ever break my spirit into submission and I was not afraid of anything at all. Even death.

I still remember those days. Yet, it all seemed so long ago. Like a distant memory that I had kept in the farthest reaches of my mind. Like as if it had been another person and not me.

Yes, I was such a happy person that time. I could barely still remember how I would often laugh as I ran out in the open, unheeding of anything else. Still believing in the security that childhood brings. I thought myself invincible as I forced my will against others and let them dare get in my way.

I still recall a certain day, though. There isn't a moment in my life that I don't remember, in vivid detail, how my entire life had shattered into a million pieces. I used to be like any other person. Like everyone else, I had enjoyed life. To the fullest extent.

Then it came, I came down with that rare fatal disease known as SLE (SYSTEMIC LUPUS ERYTHEMATOSUS)

It's a rare kind of debilitating disease, a collagen disease to be exact, that affects every system in the body. I can't go out, because sunlight is bad for me. I can't run or do stuff like normal kids could do because my bones are getting brittle because of the steroid I've been taking. My skin do easily breaks or get wounded or hurt at the slightest things. No one knows how this disease is acquired and no one knows to cure it. The steroids that I had to take were only supposed to suppress the ailment and keep it wreaking havoc in my system. And worse of all, they made me look like a swelled up balloon.

It stinks. In fact, I still think it does.

It seems that the phoenix had finally met her match after all.

I cried that day. I mourned for myself. For my life. For everything. I knew from that moment there was no way I can't turn back to I used to be. Ever again.

I smile a little, and the twist to my lips is bitter; I am more like the singer than I had ever believed possible. Like him, I also have dreams about my future. And now because of this ailment, I got no choice but to leave them behind.

I sigh heavily, then gulp, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I have never understood much about SLE anyway. Yet because of it, I have received so much worse from others; been called much worse because I was different, because I couldn't do things a certain normal kid could do. But none of them ever hurt so much; none of those taunts and insults to my face had ever found the secret place of my heart and made it bleed, save for the times when I watch them outside living life as if it meant nothing.

I stare again at the newly born day, noting the speckled motes of light dancing on the ground, glinting like tiny diamonds - intangible precious stones. Yes, we have been given so many wonderful gifts. Life. This world. Our loved ones.

Yet so many did not seem to appreciate them. So many did not realize that life's greatest pleasures need not come with a price tag.

I take the paper lying on my head table and study it closely. It was a drawing of a phoenix, a mythological bird that is said to rise from the ashes every time it was burned down. I remember in high school when so many others have compared me to a phoenix - my pride, my temper, and my stubbornness. I put down the picture and wonder. Am I, an SLE patient, really worthy being compared to such a beautiful creature? I frown and remember how I oftentimes lose hope whenever I am always left behind in the shadow. How oftentimes I forget how lucky I am compared to others who also have SLE. At least, I am still alive and living my life, though it may be a little different from the average young teen.

I glance down and lying on the table, is a picture of the bird with red and gold feathers, poised to flight amidst the flames that seem to threaten to engulf it.

I smile again, and this one has no bitterness; it is more like my true smile than the one before. Carefully, I lift the picture, and stare at it once more.

Then, I consider another question. Does it really matter that I am different?

No, it doesn't.

I walk back to the window, stare into the blinding sun, shielding my eyes with my hand from bright light before closing the blinds of my window. I am a phoenix and it doesn't matter whether I got SLE or I am forced not to lead a normal life. After all phoenixes always rise from their ashes, don't they? Someday, I will overcome this and rise from my own ashes. The thought makes me smile ... it is good to know that I shouldn't lose hope in this little struggle I have been waging for six years. I whisper a small thanks to the silence of the room, and then turn, and go out my room.

Maybe I'm not as badly off as the singer of that song, after all.


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