Twice were my love and my honor both spurned
And again, thrice my heart and soul did yearn
But my thoughts and God’s are not at all one
But twain. I reach my hands up for the sun
While solemn moon is offered in its place
And stars glorify the tears on my face
And while I wait for daylight to reach down
I radiate from within. I drown
The thought that I may never know of love
And I look again; I look up above
At the stars and the moon; I see their space
And in between moments I find the grace

This sand in our hands
Is slipping away
Our time for tomorrow
Taken up by today
The millennial downfall
Is our pride and false wisdom
Our obsession with highs
And our lack of true love
Productivity stems from caffeine
Willpower forgotten
Smitten with celebrities
Elevating internet fame
We see the world through a lens
Not knowing how to go get it
Conquered by lack of likes
We fall, defeated
Crushed by self-loathing
In comparison to others
We fall short in our eyes

CHAPTER 28: BUSY DAYS

CHAPTER 25: TRIPPIN' IT

By the time Jules woke up Saturday morning, she had made up her mind. She did not waste much time carrying her plan out. She had eaten her lunch and Duncan had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap. She gathered up her phone and headphones and headed out the door for her daily walk. The spring air was crisp and clean, and felt almost dewy, regardless of the bright sun shining down.

The next several weeks dragged by slow, and painfully for Jules. She started getting up earlier in the mornings to work out and make a healthy breakfast. All of the lifting, pushing, and caring for Duncan that she did was wearing out her mind more than anything else. She tried to set aside time each day to take a walk while Duncan was sleeping in the afternoons. She always looked forward to this time to let her mind wind down and relax, but it wasn't always enough.

Jules and Greta climbed on furniture and reached up to pull the streamers and balloons down. They laughed at each other while teasing about needing longer arms.
"Take that," Greta wrapped a long, pink streamer around Jules' face.
"Hey now!" Jules laughed and floundered from her perch on the back of the couch. She tried to free her eye-sight.
"Hey, Jules?" Miles called out from Duncan's bedroom.
"Yeah?"
"Do you have your grandpa's meds in there?"
"Oh, yeah. They're in the kitchen. I'll grab them real quick."

The next two days passed by in a blur for Jules. Her dad flew out Saturday afternoon, and Miles took his place at the hospital with Duncan. Duncan was speaking more, and was able to begin physical therapy.
Sunday morning rolled around bright and sunny. Jules got up and dressed herself in a blue skirt and gray sweater with boots and leggings underneath. She pulled the sleeves down over her arms consciously, and pulled the collar up around her neck. Her skin was still crossed with bright red scars, and tender to the touch. She didn't want anybody asking questions.

The thunder rumbled on, and still Jules cried uncontrollably. It was all too much.
"Jules!"
She lifted her head, panting. It was a man's voice calling out to her above the sound of the rain. She listened intently, praying that it wasn't Martin. Maybe it was her dad? She couldn't be sure. She heard her name again, a little closer this time. It definitely wasn't her dad.
"Jules, where are you?"

It was 5:30 in the evening by the time Greta left the hospital with Kevin. Jules took off her sweater and settled into her seat next to the cold, stiff hospital bed. She let her mind wander freely. She was deeply pursuing an idea for her next painting when she blinked, alert and present. "Did somebody say my name?" She looked up and caught Duncan's gaze. "Grandad? Was that you?"
"Jules..." his voice was labored, but it was clearly her name. He managed a weak smile.