[Laika]: 661.Contest Entries.Famous First Lines.August 2007

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. It was the time I had quit my meds. I had been taking it for five years, hating the small white pills and capsules every single day I had to swallow them. I hated what they did to me and my mind. Sure, I didn't show any symptoms when I was taking them, but neither any other big emotions. No lust, no love, no joy or sadness.

And that silent July that dragged its feet slowly across the suburbia became a time of change. It was mentioned in the public media only briefly, but that was enough to verify the rumours of the underground community. It's not a disease anymore, they said, we're no longer sick. I had a hard time believing it myself, but it was true. That meant that I could drop the pills, the suffocators that had strangled my very essence for five years.

True enough, a week later I was sitting at my doctor's office once again. He seemed a bit reluctant, but he had no choice. "I think you have been better during the treatment, Jimmy," he said. "Are you sure you want to have those urges again?"
I nodded promptly. "Yes. I want to have urges again, I need to. This is no life, not for me."
"Fine, fine. We will make the dose smaller, first, to make the rehabilitation process easier on your body and brain."
I nodded again. Through the whole reception I just kept on nodding like a madman, more than eager to get my life back.

It didn't hit me until a few months later. The last days of the year, after Christmas but before New Year's Eve, when it was mostly dark outside and I sat inside by the fireplace, the most beautiful young man curling up against my side. I had been silent for a few days, and he didn't ask any questions. He let me be, he understood what I was going through since he was going through the same thing. I had met him in the rehab crisis center during a very rough period and somehow he just followed me home and I kept him.
"Jude," I whispered, my voice quite blank.
"Yes?"
"I..am afraid." The words came slowly from my mouth. Hesitantly, like they weren't sure they deserved to be spoken.
"Afraid of what, love?" He didn't move or look up, which I really appreciated. I wasn't prepared to watch anyone in the eye at that moment of confession.
"Of being healthy, I guess. I know it sounds stupid. I have been sick for five years, not because of the illness but because of the treatment. And now I'm suddenly not, anymore, and. It's scares the hell out of me."
I took a short break to gather my thoughts. Jude stroke my knee with his fragile fingertips. "I mean, being sick was the thing that defined me. And now that I'm not sick anymore, what am I?" I had been quite miserable for weeks before that revelation of mine, not knowing why. I knew then, on that cold winter night.
"I don't know about you, James. But I am glad that you're here and mine."
"So am I," I lied. I wasn't sure if I was glad, on the other hand yes, but then entered the freaked out part of me, and I simply didn't know anymore. I wasn't sure if I wanted that. We were allowed, by society and the legal system, but I weren't sure if I was ready for that. It made me feel guilty as hell, too. It was the winter of love that had followed the summer and autumn of love, and yet I wasn't as happy about it as I was supposed to be. I couldn't bring myself to tell Jude about those thoughts, I was afraid of loving him but terrified by the thought of him leaving me. So I said nothing, only pulled him a bit tighter against me. I knew I had to be brave, and for him, for us, I was ready to try.