If My Anxious Thoughts Were True

I'm Fine, part 2

I make it through my day under water, limbs slow, weightless, and aimlessly drowning. My thoughts come back to me as I stand in the middle of my theater class. I scan the risers for empty seats away from everyone else so I can set my stuff down. The straps on my backpack dig into my shoulders while my bookbag in my hands rubs my fingers raw. I become desperate to unload the metaphorical and physical burdens on my back and in my arms.

My shoulders ache, and my arm trembles as I drop my stuff onto a chair and the floor. I make my way to sit next to Gabby, one of my friends. “Hey,” the greeting comes out very dry and hoarse. It sounds like I’ve been wandering around a desert with only sand and salt to eat. I clear my throat and try again. “Hey, kid.” It sounds better, but the younger teen makes a face at me.

“Don’t call me kid.” They say this very bluntly, and it does its job. I instantly feel bad.

“Sorry.” The words fall out of my mouth and hang in the air after Gabby doesn’t respond. I try again. “How are you, Gabby?” Simple, but it works.

“I’m fine.” They are rather short with me today. I must be annoying or something. Wait, no, Gabby’s probably just having a bad day, but I might be making it worse. It’s fine. I’m probably just being overdramatic.

“Cool, cool.” I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I, uh, I found blood in my tissue this morning.” Gabby isn’t even listening. They have their earbuds in. They are dead to the world right now. “I’ll just say hi to everyone.” I shoot up out of my seat, desperate to get away from this feeling. I’m unsure of myself as I walk across the room to a group of kids. My feet grow heavy as my mind screams at me. Don’t. Go back. Sit. Leave them alone. They look happy without you to bother them.

I stop in my tracks. My friends are all standing in a circle, smiling and laughing as if I’m not drowning a foot away from them. Resentment bubbles up in my throat and behind my eyes. I swallow in hopes of pushing down that feeling. My throat tightens, and I can’t breathe, I reach up to rub my throat in an attempt to make it go away. Suddenly, there’s someone tall with curly hair in my vision, Sofie.

Can she see I’m drowning? My panic and pain? She is speaking, and I try to listen, “-do you have any snacks?” No, she doesn’t see me. How could she not? Does it not appear on my face, show from my body language? Who looks for that in people? Who wants to? For all intents and purposes, I’ve just been standing here like an idiot this whole time.

Snacks? I can do that. Snacks are easier than talking. “Y-yeah, I have snacks.” After I lent out food to my friends, the day became a blur again.

I find myself in my 7th period class. The day is almost over, I remind myself. My paper, pen, and pencil taunt me as I stare at my laptop. All I have to do is answer some questions. I try to take a deep breath as I pop my fingers to alleviate the stiffness. My breath comes out shaky and short.

Trembling hands pick up my pen, and I force myself to write out the question in purple pen and the answer in pencil. My fingers ache as I push through more questions. I drop my pencil in frustration and flex my joints. My bones feel like they’re going push out from under my skin. At times like these, I wish I could break my bones to alleviate the throb.

Almost over. I gather up my papers and place them in my folder. The day is almost over, and I remind myself again. At the sound of the bell, I shove my folder in my book bag and drop my laptop in my backpack. I glare at the ground and desks as I shrug on my bags. Why can’t I just do my work without pain? Why can’t I walk without pain? I know why. I know the reason I have the pain, but I want to know why me.

I take a few deep breaths and walk out the door. The sheer volume of the hallway hits my ears. All around me, I hear voices and see bodies rushing past me. I stand in front of the door, staring dumbly at the large flow of bodies. It takes someone nearly running me over for my legs to start moving. My figure darts forward, making my own space in traffic. I follow my muscle memory to lead me to my last class and let my brain wander.

The stairs enter my vision, and I adjust my bag in response. A feeling of determination comes over me. The stairs have always been a struggle for me, even before I was diagnosed with chronic joint pain. It feels like I can’t fill my lungs as I attempt a deep breath. My shacky hand grabs the railing, and I take the first step.

It happens too fast as my knees buckle, and, in my panic, I quickly take another step. My body moves instinctually as I almost run into the wall but use my momentum to push myself to the next small set of stairs. When I reach the end of the staircase, I dig my heel into the ground. I stop for a moment to breathe and will my heart to stop beating so fast.

My legs buckle again as if to tell me I’ve been standing here too long. I force myself to walk to my class and sit in my usual seat. Almost over. It’s literally the last class of the day. I just want to get out of here.

As class goes on, I notice some pain in my calf, but I try to ignore it as the lecture starts. The world around me blurs as I mechanically do my work for the day. I stare at my laptop as I try to make sense of the words on the screen. My vision swims as I strain my eyes to read. It causes a flash of pain behind my eyes. I growl as the stabbing pain subsides; this is stupid! Class is almost over anyway, I reason, I can just do this later.

I snap my laptop closed, snatch up the device, and roughly jam it into my backpack. After a moment of silence, the bell rings, and I pick up my bag and swing it onto my back. It makes a thud as it connects, but I just slip on the other strap and grab my book bag. I adjust my bags on my shoulders to be as comfortable as possible before I go.

I can’t help but frown as I push myself to walk as fast as I can, ignoring the pain. I can’t be late for the bus! Crowds move around me as I weave through them. My breath is labored as it burns my throat. Unsteady feet reach the pavement outside, and I don’t waste a second to find my bus.

My eyes dart around, searching for my bus number, I spot my bus arriving. Finally! I adjust my bag once more before I rush the bus with everyone else who lives in my neighborhood. An unbearable pain creeps up my back as I heave myself onto the bus and in a seat. I sit with Sofie on the quiet ride home.

The cramped sitting arrangement definitely doesn’t help my aching joints. The forced contact makes me go mad; I absolutely hate every single second of this drive. As my stop comes into view, I get ready to finally leave. Suddenly, Sofie hands her phone to me and says this, “Hold this for me?” I bitterly grabbed her phone as Sofie stood.

She gathered her things as I waited as patiently as I could. I handed Sofie’s phone back and attempted to stand. My legs greatly protested, and I fell back on my seat. Determined, my arms griped the back of the seat in front of me and pulled myself up. Once I properly stood, I got out of there as quickly as possible. I step into the aisle and pull myself along, trying not to bump into anything.

The sunlight greets me with warms as I land on the grass and nearly crumple on myself. Sofie is there waiting for me as I right myself. I take my spot next to her and try to hide how much I am wobbling. We walk for a couple of blocks together, but we don’t live on the same street.

The block home was a nightmare as the sun beat down, mocking me while my legs threatened to give out. Every step shook me until I was limping home. Pain wracked my insides as I cursed every god, my parents, my whole bloodline even, for giving me this hurt. I tried to go as fast as I could, but I couldn’t run, not even move faster than a tortoise. If I moved, there was pain. If I didn’t move, there was pain all the same.

I finally got to collapse in my bed and go to sleep after a long day of having my ass kicked. Warmth surrounded me as I lay under the covers at last. I pulled my squishmello, Frobert, closer and buried my face in him. Sleep took me as my brain slipped into dreamland.

Morning came all too soon as my eyes opened in response to my alarm going off. I groaned in pain and frustration as I turned off the noise. Pain shot up my arms as I pushed myself up to get out of bed. My legs were heavy as I slid them over the edge of my bed and onto the cold floor. Every muscle in my body shook as I tried to stand.

The pressure was too much. Pain gripped me until I saw the world go sideways. A deafening crash rang out as the shock protected me from the impact. I lay on the ground as I processed what had just happened. I know I can’t get up, but I also no one is coming to save me. Fear and helplessness gripped me as I cried on the cold, lonely ground.

The end.