Hey! I hope you guys like my new story. Inspiration struck last night and I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

To those of you reading Why give up now, I'll try and up date as soon as I get a chance.

Enjoy!

Now

I was nine years old when I got diagnosed. Your mind impenitently flies to cancer, right? No, there are other diseases out there, too. Have you ever heard of Muscular Dystrophy? Notice how closely it sounds like muscles and deteriorate? Well, yeah that's basically what my disease is; my muscles are slowly shrinking, dissolving. I know eventually I'll be confined to a wheelchair.

I have another question, have you heard of Friedreich's ataxia (pronounced either Fred- like the guy from iCarly or the guy with the high pitched voice on YouTube- Rick's -like SpongeBob's best friend, Patrick, but just the Rick part- Attack, C -like the letter- Uh. Or some people say Freed, Rick's, Attack, C, Uh). That's specifically what my disease is called. Muscular Dystrophy is like a category, there are 36 (maybe 38?) forms of MD. My disease, FA (Friedreich's ataxia) falls into that category. Think of cell phones, you can say cell phone, or get more specific and say Envy 2 or Gravity touch.

Hopefully you're still with me. Remember how I said it affects my muscles? Well, that's the only thing it affects. It doesn't affect my mental health, just physical (not that I'm deformed, I mean my muscles). It effects all my muscles in my, legs, arms, back, hands, heart, balance motor skills gross and fine. It effects some people's talking too (not mine) they slur their worlds and can't talk fast. Basically it makes us seem like we're drunk. It's progressive, which means over time, it gets worse. It affects 1 50,000.

Now, why does my disease affect these things? Because, everyone's body makes 32 Frataxin proteins (they're the things that helps your body make energy) and anyone's body who makes more than 32 has FA. My body makes 700. Picture this, everyone's body reads a recipe 32 times, than makes energy. My body reads it 700 times, so it's so focused on the recipe, it doesn't make enough energy. Then it has a domino effect on the rest of my body, cells start shutting down, and my muscles weaken.

700 seems like a big number, huh? Wrong. Mine is extremely slow progressing; most kids who have FA are 900 or higher. Most kids are in a wheelchair 5 years within their diagnoses. I've known for 7 years and the only with I've lost is my ability to run. I can walk, write with a pencil, talk normally, rarely fall down, I do stumble, though.

But anyway, that pretty much sums it up.

Oh, I actually forgot one thing. My best friend since I've known from birth, who's been with me through it all. Still my best friend today. Fang.

Like I said, I knew him since birth and he stuck with me through it all.

I walked the few steps to his house right next door and opened the door, not bothering to knock.

"Hey, Max," Fang's mom, Eden greeted.

"Hi," I smiled at her.

"Oh, you guys are gonna have such a great time in LA."

"I think so. It's going to be such a long car ride over though." I stumbled into the wall and quickly leaned against it, before I tripped.

You wanna know how much Fang's family likes mine? They moved with us when we moved across state to Oregon, to be closer to the FA specialist in LA. Wanna know how much they liked me in particular? They almost bought the house across the street that was two stories. Instead, they bought this single story because they knew I'd have trouble going up and down stairs.

Eden brushed it off, used to this happening and knowing useless I fell or something, I'd be fine.

"I'm sure you guys will find something fun to do." She smirked at me as she walked down the hall. I followed.

"Yeah," I muttered sarcastically, "Like Gazzy's car sickness?"

"Hey, it's entertainment!" she said, a grin on her face. "Fang's in his room, packing."

I nodded and said, "Fun." As I headed to his room.

I walked in the open door and plopped down on his bed, knocking over a pile of followed laundry.

He glanced up, "Thanks."

"Any time." I stacked them back. "Don't forget your swim suit."

"I won't," he mumbled, "Mom."

I flipped him the bird. "Are you bringing anything fun?" I lay back, looking at the ceiling.

"Like?"

"I don't know. Something that's un-Fang-ish. Like a kite!"

"What would we do with a kite?" he mumbled, finally saying something more than three syllables.

"Fly it out the car window."

"Good luck with that."

"Hey, I wouldn't have to worry. It'd be your kite."

"I don't even own a kite."

"Well, you should. Buzz kill."

He glanced up at me and smirked. "Well, I brought some canyons. Does that count?" he held up a small box of Crayolas.

"Those will melt, you know."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine. Have fun wearing waxy clothes."

"They're goin' in your suit case."

"Like hell they are! If you put melting crayons in my bag, I'll put dye in your shampoo." I stuck my tongue out at him, sitting back up.

"Mature."

"I try."

Okay, yes FA is a real disease. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! Also, this video also explains it a little more. .com/watch?v=dBKEz952RY4