I am nine years old, and my parents are talking to the doctor with hushed voices. I am not really paying attention. It is a beautiful day outside, and I want to play. I want to run. I wonder, momentarily, if I could perhaps try to fly.

"She is extremely intelligent." He says, scratching his head. "But she still can't read. She speaks on a high-school level. Her art- doodles rather- show an extremely active imagination, even more so than normal at her age."

"What does that mean?" My mom is worried, I can tell by her voice. I start paying active attention to the conversation.

"She has one of the rarer forms of ADHD. She might have a little bit of dyslexia or autism, but the main problem is probably the attention span."

"She isn't hyper at all though." My dad glances at me and smiles, and I smile back. I'm hungry, and my scalp itches from where they attached electrodes to it.

"No, she wouldn't be. That's why its been so hard to diagnose. She dosen't have any of the traditional symptoms, it really is all in her head."

"Can it be treated?"

I begin to doodle again. I am not drawing anything in particular. I am far more focused on using as many colors as possible to create a rainbow gradient across the page. Gradient. I missed that word on my vocabulary test last week.

"Yes. We can give her Aderol. It might take some time to get the dosage right, but you should see an immediate improvement in her grades."

"Will she ever be able to function without it?"

"No. Probably not. In cases as severe as her's, the likelihood is that she will have to ake it the rest of her life. "