People say it’s like riding a bike. They say you just have to jump in and get your feet wet. Well, they don’t realize what’s its like to have to jump into an ocean blind and deaf. I’m blind and deaf, jumping into an ocean with nothing but a tiny buoy that’s slowly deflating. I’m afraid of what’s to come and what things will be like in the future. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to put my family through what I’ve put them through. I was a hassle, a distraction, a nuisance, and a disturbance for them. They were humble and never ever said I was but I knew how much they were giving up for me. Sleeping in, going out, having a night at home, and just being normal parents with a normal kid. I was the complete opposite of normal and still am. Why did I have to put them through this? Was it meant to happen? Was it just the plan for my life? It was a pretty messed up plot if you ask me.
I didn’t think my secret would ever see the light of day. I didn’t think it would be dissected into something so intense and extreme. I thought I would live my life with it. I thought I would go to college with it, get married with it, have children with it, die with it. In a way it will always be apart of me. It will always be hanging over my head waiting for me to give in and obey its every command. It’s just waiting for me to crack under the pressure. It wants to win. I don’t want it to win again. It’s been winning since freshmen year. Sometimes though it’s easier to let it win. It’s easier to give in and let it have its way. It’s easier letting it control me because in a way I am winning too. I finally have control of something in my life. I don’t have to accept what other people already decided for me. I don’t have to listen to what they want; I only hear what it wants. If I do let my friend win, I lose. I lose my family, friends, school, sports, my health, every relationship I’ve ever made, and life.
I believe I was once dead. Not physically just spiritually. People couldn’t see past my pale skin, my sunken eyes, or my bones perturbing out through my skin. They stopped saying how blue my eyes were and how pretty my smile was. They started firing never-ending questions to my mom and dad. My mom and dad needed someone to talk to. I don’t blame them for telling. I blame myself for trying to hide. Why hide when all people want to know is how you are? I envy my parents for being so open about things. They are thankful for the concern from other people. It gives them hope and faith. It makes them wishful and it lets them see the light at the end of the tunnel. Luckily, I learned from them. The questions are still asked but why can’t they ask me? Why can’t I be the one explaining what’s wrong? Why do they have to stare and not ask? Why can’t they ask? Why can’t they talk to me like before they knew? Why can’t I have my friend back? What did I do to make him turn away? I guess it was inevitable.