Tim definitely wasn't the sanest. All through warmup he felt sick and unwell.
Maybe it was the pressure.
Maybe it was his friends.
Maybe it was the coach.
Maybe it was him.
Maybe it was his parents, always expecting so much from him.
Maybe it was his sibling, who became angry when losing.
Maybe it was because he ate poorly and had insomnia.
It could have been anything.
Tim didn't like fencing as much as he used to for sure, it was hard and it made him very sick feeling.
But he couldn't stop either, anyways, his lucky day should come soon, shouldn't it?
He had been in the game long enough, pretty soon, it would pay off.
At least, that's what people told him.
They said: "wow, you're so talented and fencing sounds so fun"
He would smile and say something stupid.
He wasn't talented. He felt sick. He didn't want to go back but he didn't want to leave. Couldn't anyone see him for what he was really doing? He was trying his hardest to be number one, trying so hard to be something he wasn't sure he wanted to be, trying to tear himself up for a momentary gladness.
He felt terrified of the coaches and wanted to cry when they were upset at him, even though he knew that that was stupid and kids smaller than him were beating him daily.
The people who "loved" him only made it worse.
Day by day the suppression of anger broke him...and he would snap at his friends or become angry for no reason. Sometimes the panic attacks would catch him during warmup and he would start suffocating.
But of course, it's never good to dive int someone's psyche. After all, seeing all their darkness at once will break you.
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But I stayed
General FictionTim adored fencing. He worked so hard all day, every day, just to pull in a few more points. He wanted to even make it to the Olympics. But things kept happening that began growing his doubt. And besides, the people he knew--they were angels of inju...
