Yesterday my sick mind entered a very dark world. Thoughts of pricking my snow-white skin with thick needles, cutting up my fatty arms with scissors, and even attempting to end it all invaded my mind.
Why was I consumed with these ominous and potentially fatal ideas? It all began after my dad fetched me from school at 3 in the afternoon. I wasn’t feeling the best but I pretended to be ok. I told him school was fine even though the truth was I despised every second. I even said I was feeling well despite the fact my pain was nagging me.
As we got closer to the place that is suppose to be my home, my dad told me something I was hoping to never hear. He told me that my X-rays came in and the doctors have no idea what’s wrong with me.
I pretty much had a breakdown in the car and cried for hours. I wanted those damn X-rays to show something abnormal. I didn’t care if it would show that my body was suffering from a condition that could steal my life or if it just proved I had some benign ailment. I just wanted them to find something so I can close the book on my “mystery diagnosis” and stop suffering psychologically from the worsening pain.
Now I worst fear is that people are going to stop believing and pass me as some spoiled adolescent just looking for some extra attention. I also fear the doctors think my struggles are psychosomatic and that I am nothing but some hypochondriac.
I am fighting a battle that I don’t think I will ever be able to win. So I guess the wise thing to do is to just surrender an let my impassive enemies take me captive.