Exam season has fast approached as tired and defeated eyes eagerly await the opening of the library doors. No time to waste, only two weeks to prove yourself. Your stress levels are at an all time high and your patience decreasing ever so slightly as the days pass. You know you’re not yourself anymore, the exam demon has emerged and taken control; it is welcomed with open arms.
Everything is wrong. You feel like you’ve gained 15lbs when in reality it’s probably only 1 or maybe you’ve lost a few but you’re too emotional to tell. You’re friends are complaining about their significant others and you’re trying so hard to care but all you feel is bitter that you’re all alone. You want him to miss you but you’re the one who ran. It’s all your fault but you refuse to see it. You’re face is fooling others but you’re treading water on your current mental status. Just two weeks. Just two weeks and then you’ll have the summer and you’ll be back to normal. Don’t do anything drastic until this passes.
Buzz Buzz. The bright screen flashes a text. You’ve only read the first line but that’s enough. The walls that you built so high start to crumble down. You don’t know where to turn as your lungs start to tighten. Everything blurs. All you know is that you have to get out. Run. Sprint. As fast as you can away from here. No one can see you cry. Crying is for the weak. You are strong. You’ve put together the pieces so many times before, this is no different.
Some people would call it a tragedy, but you call it life. You compartmentalize your emotions, refusing to feel anything too deeply. No need to hurt myself. Chemotherapy. Now that’s a scary word, isn’t it? It’s hard to say it to your friends without getting strange and pitying looks; the stares become a part of you and soon you avoid going to the places where people know. You just want to forget what’s happening back home because it’s killing you that you are away. That while your father is struggling through each failing treatment, you’re worrying about exams. You’re friends love life. Whether or not you have enough money for food. These things all seem so minimal at the moment but again, you must compartmentalize.
Get through it by shutting it out, that’s what they say.
You’re one of those tired and defeat eyes waiting for the library doors to open on this crisp, spring morning. No one here knows your battle, your story. And why should they? You’re here to revise. To pass your classes. You’ve buried your problems so deep within that soon you forget reality. Reality is unnecessary. Unwelcome.
The doors open. Welcome to Wonderland.