October

In ninth grade I got a cold about two months in to school. In October. And I never got better.

It always starts with a cold.

These are the facts.

It's October now.

I'm ready for October to be over.

Every time I miss a day of school I worry.

And wonder.

Trying not to be negative or morbid, but wondering.

Is history going to repeat itself?

Am I going to recover from this?

Or will I, once again, spend the next three years sick, at home?

It's October.

I'm ready for it to be over.

Ready to enter a new month, ready to leave the past behind.

Ready to start making new memories.

Ready to start living without being chained to the past.