This is a story by Giannni Mansi, a 39 year-old who suffers from a rare myopathy that causes all sorts of problems.
He took up creative writing in 2005, focusing mainly on wickedly amusing short stories, but on this occasion he decided to do a sort of autobiography (albeit a very short one) in order to show people how his life has changed.

Gianni Mansi

Two different worlds

I sat heavily in my chair; my muscles screaming in agony in their quest to keep me upright. Time passed and shadows
grew longer as I waited
patiently for my carer to come to my aid. The deafening silence was broken by the ever growing loudness of the continuous ticking clock on the wall. I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke gloom was replaced by the darkness of the night. "Surely it must
be time?" I mumbled out loud.

The noise of metal on metal signalled to my relief that my carer had arrived at last. The thud of the door closing inward was followed by a reassuring, softly spoken, "Hello." Light from the hallway skimmed by me and lit up the sitting-room wall. "What are you doing sitting alone in the dark?” she inquired. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling well, I've managed to get myself stuck here again," I blurt out. "I don't know, can't leave you alone for five minutes Mr Mansi," said my carer in a soft voice as she vanished the darkness with the flick of a switch.

Like I was a bag of sugar, she pulled me to my feet and guided me through the hallway and into the bedroom, before gently depositing me on to my bed. The relief from my muscles was immediate and immense. It made me gasp. "That's better hey?" She whispered in my ear. “Yes," I said observing her porcelain like face. Her eyes seem to radiate warmth. I felt completely relaxed while she helped me out of my cumbersome clothes and into my pyjamas. The softness of the sheets that came down around me seemed to have a soothing effect on my tired, weary body. My lead-like eyes began to close. Slowly drifting.....

At about the same time, a young fair haired leather jacket clad man strode down the street. People moved aside as if he had an invisible force field around him. Like a young lion, completely fearless, he stepped into his local watering hole. There was music blaring, lights flashing, people chattering and spontaneous bouts of laughter in this smoke-filled room. He strolled up to the bar. "Hi James," said Elizabeth, the owner of this establishment. With a single click of her fingers the DJ hit the music. This was met by a friendly cheer from acquaintances holding aloft their pint glasses in the corner of the room. A half pint of Guinness was carefully placed on the bar before he had the chance to speak. In a playful roar he asked the barman, "What if I had wanted something else?" the barman said uncertainly, "You don't, do you?" "No,"
James said with a mischievous smile.

In between saving a small friend from the clutches of the alcohol fuelled pack, James chatted confidently to the ladies. He lifted up one young lady as if she was little more than a feather. After she had delivered a few ear piercing screams of delight, James put the lady gently back up on to her feet. For this he received a passionate kiss. A demonstration of strength never failed to impress. There were cheers of "Nice one James," from familiar voices in the crowd. James got himself another half of Guinness just before the bell for last orders rang. A clink of glasses, then he, just like the others wiped his chin before putting his glass back down onto a crowded bar. Spontaneous bouts of, "Goodnight" echoed round the room as it started to empty. "What a night," said James as he followed the flowing crowd out onto the street light lit pavement. The softness of his bed was what he was looking forward to now. So, just as confidently, if not a little wearily, James made his way home.

I squinted when a wall of light hit me in the face. "Good morning," said Justine, my morning carer as she finished opening the curtains. I struggled to my feet and stared directly into the mirror opposite. As the reflection before me changed back into the dishevelled, skinny man I was now, I said, "Good morning" very despondently. "I didn't realise you had a leather jacket," said Justine picking up the heavy object from the floor? With a slightly mystified look at how it could have gotten there, I said, "Yes. I use to wear it long before my illness, dreamily adding, when I was young, fit and strong." I completely failed to hide the bitterness in my voice. "What about these jeans?" Justine added, holding the offending item between finger and thumb. Almost dumbstruck, I managed to mutter aloud, "But it wasn't even a dream, I couldn't sleep. It was just a recollection of the good old days." "I don't know," I murmured hysterically to Justine, then fell silent in utter confusion.