I really didn't want either of my friends to have to schedule their lives around my appointments, but sometimes I didn't have any other option. I'd take an Uber, or the city bus, but other times I was required to have someone I knew with me when I was left too fucked up to make it home alone. It was humiliating, and it was starting to bother me more and more. I felt terrible every time Hex or Anderly saw me limping after physical therapy, or doped up and exhausted from my anxiety meds. They couldn't hide that look of pity from me even if they tried, and I knew they were trying.
My friends had lives, too. They had jobs and university and a social life outside of taking care of me, and I was interrupting that. I wondered if they had flashbacks of me dying, like I had. If they felt fear, panic, or sadness every time they looked at me. I honestly could not understand why anyone would willingly be around me at all; I couldn't get it through my head.
The shame I felt went so deep it was invading my thoughts, and on those days I hid in my darkened room and listened to music through my headphones to try and drown them out. It didn't always work.
You're useless. Worthless.
You've never accomplished anything and never will
Everything is your fault
You can only hurt others
Who could possibly stand you, let alone love you?
I turned the volume all the way up.
I was in a "major depressive episode" as my new shrink would say, and it felt impossible to get out of bed. I only left it to get the occasional protein shakes and water or use the toilet. I slept for 16 hours a day but I was still tired, and my head ached from crying. It had been almost a week since I'd seen my friends, and I was able to keep them away by telling them I was just too tired and sore from my meds and physical therapy to do anything. I rescheduled or canceled all my appointments. I was pretty sure I had convinced my friends I was fine. I lied and it was so fucking easy now it made me sick.
Liar, liar, liar-
A text message notification interrupted my music app, so I sighed and tapped on the icon. It was the group chat with Hex, Anderly, and I. Shit. I knew they wouldn't let me hide forever.
Remind me how we're all adults again?
I stared at my phone, mildly terrified. I had a feeling they were going to show up and force me to get out of bed. I felt simultaneously ashamed and annoyed. Deep down I wanted to get up, be normal, go to work and see my friends, but it was like my brain and body were always fighting against each other. No matter how much I wanted those things, I couldn't convince my garbage body to let me do them, even things I knew would make me feel better.
Sometimes I just needed to be forced, and that's what my friends were for.
I groaned loudly into my pillow and cursed. Having them physically extract me from my bed sounded mortifying. They would definitely do that in a heartbeat. I had to force myself to sit up, and my joints were so sore from disuse it took a long time to stand completely upright. The nightstand was overflowing with protein shake cans, and there was a small pile of them on the floor by the bed. I kicked one across the room.
There were some moderately not-dirty clothes and a towel in the mountain of laundry. I knew my scheming friends wouldn't let me keep wearing the gym shorts I'd been wearing for the last week. I clicked the light on in the bathroom and winced in the bright light. It was the first time I had even turned on a light since I had holed up at home, and the first time I'd caught sight of myself in the mirror, too.
My hair was greasy and I looked like absolute shit. My cheeks were sunken and I had dark circles under my eyes. I could see the scars on my shoulder, the biggest and newest one looked like a zipper that stretched over my shoulder, front to back, almost six inches long. Shiny dark pink and a strong contrast with my pallid skin; it looked absolutely gruesome.
I reluctantly looked down at my body, now 25 pounds under the low-end of what's ideal for my 5'8" height. The doctors were probably starting to think I was anorexic, but I was just too nauseous from my meds or too disinterested to eat anything. I dreaded stepping on the scale at every appointment, I didn't actually want to be so thin. I grimaced. I felt the ridges between my protruding ribs, and if I put my hands around my waist, my middle fingers and thumbs got disturbingly close to touching.
I shucked my shorts off and kicked them into the corner with more force than necessary, suddenly pissed off at the mere sight of my body. I hated it, inside and out. And I hated my mind too, so there was really nothing left to love or even be content with. I was nothing like I had been in high school; happy, healthy, and tanned from long hours spent practicing guitar in the sun. Loved by my friends, teachers, and parents. Besides Hex and Anderly, I had none of that anymore. That oblivious kid I had been had no fucking idea his life would go so completely off the rails at 18. I pitied myself and resented myself for it at the same time.
I showered and lathered up, scrubbing my scalp clean with the only hand I could raise high enough.
~
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