I feel defeated. I try so hard, but now, due to common sense, I have been forbidden to do the things that make me feel good about myself. The worst part is that, despite being really frustrated and angry, I completely understand why I am being restrained.
I’m not used to this. Usually, people are pushing me to do crazy, adventurous, different things that I don’t want to do. This time, the one time I actually want to push myself, be daring, and I am being limited. There’s nothing I can do to fix it other than “change my attitude”, but I don’t want to. I want to be angry. I am allowed to be angry because on my last weeks of school, before I move across the country from all of my friends, I am not included.
I feel isolated and I hate it. I hate feeling alone. It really feels like I am. Truth is, nobody’s there in the hospital with me when the nurses poke me with a billion needles and put me through relentless testing. Nobody was there when I had to opt out of a once in a lifetime field trip to Belize over april vacation. Nobody knows what it was like to quit my job because I started to scared of waking up on the floor. Of course they don’t and I can’t really expect them to. I can’t participate in class outings because “it’s too much of a safety hazard”. I can’t participate in my favorite class at all.
I wanted to prove something to myself in that class. I wanted to prove that even if I don’t have good grades, or a “bangin’ body”, or a bunch of friends, or talents; at least I could be proud of myself for jumping. Literally jumping. I wanted to prove that I could do something if I wanted to. I could get over something, like my fear of heights, even though I am terrified most of the way there. Now I can’t even do that.
It feels rotten. It’s like a giant hot potato was shoved into my lungs. Trust me, I hate potatoes! It’s an ache that gets worse when I think about it. Yes, maybe it seems insignificant to some, but to me, it means a lot.