Coping

My hands were shaking again. I didn’t know why. I didn’t think it was that cold. Curious. I leaned down a little closer to make sure it wasn't another trick of my imagination. My long hair fell into my face, clouding everything in shades of brown. I tried to lift my hands to push it away, but the control I usually had over them was gone. I’ll have to figure it out later, when my head stops pulsing. I tried to swallow, but the lump in my throat made it nearly impossible. My tongue flopped dryly in my mouth. Everything in the room vibrated and twisted and danced before my eyes. The usual friendly array of stuffed animals that surrounded my bed turned into vicious, shapeless monsters. The creme sheets on my bed turned into quicksand before me. My eyes couldn't handle all of this. My entire room, with all its bookcases and dresser drawers and friendly trinkets, had turned against me. Most striking of all was the transformation of my greatest ally, the computer. Normally, it would be my wonderful way to escape this house, but now it wished to suck me into even more misery. I shuddered away from it all. The blinking red light of the abandoned monitor swirled into a strange, lurking spiral ready to swallow my world whole. I curled into a ball, unable to face all that surrounded me, but still watching my shaking hands.

The pulsing pain and paranoia spread throughout me; I felt myself shaking violently, convulsively, but I could do nothing against it. My whole body ached and throbbed angrily. What have I done to deserve this? I tried to shut my eyes against it all, but the waves of pain only smashed harder against me as I shuddered. I wanted to scream out. I couldn’t. The pain choked away my voice, paralyzing me in its viper grip. Shocked, silent tears streamed down my contorted face. I rocked with the silent sobs, and this only incresed the pain. There was nothing I could do, however. I had lost all control over myself. This had defeated me yet again. For hours the pain and pattern continued. The shaking, rocking, and strangled sobs refused to leave me for so long that I couldn't ever imagine anything from this but death.

Finally, it subsided. I was free. I slowly unwound myself from the tangle I ended up in, and sat up. It was almost like regaining consciousness from sleep. My eyes were blurry, and a faint reminder of the physical and mental pain ached dully in the back of my mind. I clicked the mouse and pressed down on the space bar of the keyboard, waking the monitor. I needed to hide for just a bit longer. I definitely didn't want to see my parents yet. Or ever. I continued on as usual, but my eyes, my eyes still did not focus as they should. I couldn’t stare at the screen too long, reading was a challenge. I tried to say; I tried; I tried, but nothing came of it. I’ve long since learned how to force my eyes to focus, but this time I simply could not do it.

Admitting to this is hard. No one would believe it, would they? They’d just think I was crazy, or on drugs. Maybe I am on drugs, and this is all just a strange, strange dream. It’s gone on far too much to have that simple of an explanation, though. This has gone on for all of my 16 years of life that I can remember. I’d have known at some point by now of drugs, wouldn't I? This is terrifying. I can’t figure out what’s been going on with m. I’ve merely learned better to contain it, to force myself better so no one will see. I don’t want anyone to think I am even half as bad as I am. They'd make me take medicine, or lock me away somewhere. I was sure of it. Somtimes, there were nights like these where all the strength in the world couldn't hold off the attack. This had to have been the worst one yet, but I said that every time. Everytime it's new to me, no matter how many times it has happened before. That kind of pain can't be forgotten, but nor can it be relived.

 It never truly goes away. I might very well be broken. I might be crazy. This might be a punishment for some unamed sin of mine, or a sin in a past life. I'm sure something somewhere must hate me for this to happen. I hope not. I want this to go away. I don’t know what to do. I’ll take my first steps, slowly. I’ll step away from a screen and ask for help. Or maybe I’ll just feel low enough to try painkillers again. The bottle is always near enough. I could always try and down the whole thing, and escape the pain forever. Honestly, I'm too afraid I'm being given a taste of Hell to do that. I could hardly bear that for a few hours, let alone an entire lifetime. When my body did this to me, I was nothing more than an observer. Except that I was still privileged to feel every ounce of pain. If there was a Hell, it seemed clear it would consist of this. I have no control over my own body. I don’t know. This is all so confusing, and I'm so very tired. I’d try to sleep, but I’m afraid any sudden movements to lay down would have me throw up. I’ll just stay here then, at the screen I said I’d leave, and try to act out business as normal.

It’s how I cope with this usually anyway, so why change it?