Chương 23: My Second Year As An Handicapped Child

My first year as an handicapped child was... weird. To say the least. At first I thought I was tortured, then I realized I was just reincarnated, but as an handicapped, which isn't that great, but it's still better than being tortured for the rest of my life. At least I had good parents. They gave me attention, and even if I didn't really liked them at first. Can't help but admit that they've grown on me, during the first year at least.

Even if a lot of moments were quite humiliating, with the problem of being a baby again. It was also filled with warmth and love, can't really lie about this. Passed pretty much all of my time with my parents, playing together, all while they taught me about the little things they did on the side. Whether it was sewing, cleaning, cooking, reading, writing, or gentle roughousing. We did a lot. I passed all of my time with them, only stopping to sleep.

And when I woke up I was playing with Kiko, and my aunt, which was just as great than living with my parents. Even had a good birthday, a great cake, and all the stuff I needed to grow up as a good and healthy child. The problem started when I became one year old. There was this whole stuff with my grandfather.... then. Then everything kind of became... uh... You know what? Let me show you instead. I throw my blanket off me and put both of my feet on the ground. Ah. Yes, I have a bed now. Well, a bed.

I look down at my small bed. It's more like a mess of blankets and pillows, that packed together. Make a bed. I look around. I don't have a crib anymore. It's a long story, but let's just say that having the independent ability to go to bed without help was really useful. Getting up from my bed, I let my body stretch around, not restraining my odd movements too much, even if they look weirder and weirder the older I get. Today, I'm two years old.

And I feel like comparing this new birthday of mine, and my previous birthday will be a perfect show of the new mood that's around the house. Before that though. I turn to the box on the corner of my bed, and open the box. Which, quickly proved itself to be my cupboard. It's... a thing I use to put my stuff in. Literally all there is. In it I have my clothes, some clothes at least. A pen, and if I dig deep enough, a stack of paper! Lifting the papers out of the box, I put them down and sit down in front of them.

Pen in my hand, I ruffle with some pages, looking at some of the entries. A mix of the weird language I've been learning for two years, I've started learning how to read with my dad but now... I'm learning alone because... Uh... you'll see later. In any case, turning some pages around. I look at the big numbers I put on the back of said paper, 22, 23, not this one, 27, nope, ah! Here it is! Twenty-eight, and twenty-nine. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen.

Please report the violation. Lifting them, I see what I've been working on for a while. A map of my surroundings. Still didn't found a map of the village, or the country we're in, even if I have my guesses, so I decided to put in the work myself. Putting the two pages together on the ground, I align them like a puzzle. And lean forward, to draw another street. A street I found yesterday, a street I'm planning on visiting again today. Because it's FILLED with what I've been starving for so long.

Drawing the street, I add a dead end, and a pretty big building in said dead end. Just beside it, I write the name of said building in english, because I still don't know how to write 'Library' I probably need money or something, but it doesn't really matter. I'll figure out something. When I'm done writing this. I pull all of my papers together, pen included. And put everything back in my box, made of cardboard, and close it tight. Well, tight.

I need to finish everything by putting my mirror above it, it doesn't really stay closed if there's nothing on the box. So my trusty mirror is always here to keep it closed. When I'm done with this. I stand up, straight. And take the deepest breath my lungs can take. Close my eyes. And stay still. I can barely feel anything, I know my body is doing those weird movements, like usual, but I can barely feel them. But it doesn't matter.

Like every morning, with enough privacy to train in peace, I restrain those movements. Using all my will, I force myself to be as still as possible, tightening my muscles and trying to pick out every single one of those small movements and stopping them. My shoulder rolling around my socket? I stop it. My head tilting on the side? Nope, you're going back to your normal place. My fingers curling against my legs? Helllll no, time for you to relax. My leg taking a step forward?

I stop it mid step and go back to standing still. In this darkness. I try to restrain any movements of mine, and for three blessful seconds I manage. I know that I manage it. I don't know how to describe it, but it's as if I reached Nirvana. It's as if my mind and my body finally saw eye to eye. It's as if my entire body aligned itself. The pain I hate so much finally smoothing out, smoothing until nothing remains. For a half blissful second. I am normal Then the shaking happens.

The pain climbs up, worse than before. And my entire body shakes as if I had Parkinson's, I stay here for ten good seconds, trying to reach the blissful feeling again, but it's for naught I don't reach it again. Letting out a long sigh, I open my eyes again, a smile on my face. It took me one year of training to reach this state. At first, I almost thought I was crazy. That I imagined things or something, but I wasn't I kept up my meditation training and....

I look down at the small scar on the tip of my index finger.... found ways to motivate myself to train. And after this! I managed to see it, a path, a better path than just hoping that everything would take care of itself when I grow up! Fucking dumb hope I tell you. The thought makes me rub my index finger again, the one with the scar on it, as I rub it, my tongue run over my canine, feeling the tooth. Proof is, I'm two years old today. And I'm still feeling like shit everyday. In any case.

Now that it's done, time for training! Dropping down on the ground, I get into a plank position and start cranking up pushups, I don't stop until my limbs are shaking, soon enough, I fall straight on my belly, my arms feeling like lead. Twenty, I'm pretty sure it was around twenty. Which is, again, kind of crazy for a two years old. I think it is? I don't know shit about babies, how many times do I need to say it? Then, after taking some deep breath, and a minute for myself.

I get into a plank position and start cranking up pushups. Again Exhausting every single trace of stamina I managed to recover. When I'm done, I take barely one minutes to rest. And do it, again. I do it four times in total, when I can't push up my body no matter how hard I try, I get on my knees, and continues my set by doing kneeling pushups. And when I can't even do kneeling pushups anymore, I get up and do pushups on the wall. So much in fact that I can't even do pushups on the wall anymore. Well! Great!

First part is done! When I'm done with the pushups, I start squatting, doing the same training for my legs as I did for my arms. When this is done, I do the same with my core by doing sit ups. I don't know shit about training. I don't know if what I'm doing is useful. But what I do know! Is that this training makes me feel GOOD! Like really good. I'm completly exhausted just after, but it feels so fucking good it's crazy.

My usual pain drops down to a constant 50% while I'm recovering, and a good 30% while I'm training. Which is... really crazy. That's something I figured out after listening to my body. Yes, I did try to have a sort of workout routine going on, but I quickly scrapped the small numbers of repetitions I was doing when I figured out that my body LOOOOVES being exhausted for some reason. At first, I just wanted to train a bit you know? Maybe find a way to heal my disease. But now? I just want the pain killer.

This kind of shit usually leaves me completly exhausted, but it's still way more pleasent than the rest of my days. Talking about the rest of my days, I look at my door. Then I look behind me, at... my room. I look around, take a deep breath, search for something I forgot to take, but I have everything I need on me... just trying to gain time. So with another deep breath, I open the door. And leave my room.