Walking to class, she walks the
same path every day and talks to the same people (no one) and holds never
ending conversations with them. She tells them about what’s going on in her
life and what she’s stressing about, what fears she has. She is big on fears.
Anxiety is her devil on her shoulder.
She’s worried about her sister
today. Her sister is struggling with school and being a grown up and there’s
nothing she can do to help, but her sister has to learn how to deal with this
stuff just like she did. Yesterday she was worried about her boyfriend. She told
him how scared she was that he wasn’t talking to her about things he wanted
from her and from this relationship. She knew he was talking to someone else
and she was too. She loved that it was exciting, exhilarating to be free from that
pressure of a relationship and she’s so sorry. But none of that is true. She
knows he’s different than the last guy and doesn’t deserve her anger and lies.
Tomorrow she’ll be worried about school. She’ll be worried about writing good
stories and poems and sharing those stories and poems. She worries about not being
good enough and when she knows that she’s amazing.
She’ll invent creatures attacking
the people she walks by and she’ll fight them off, saving everyone with her sword
and shield and laser guns and acrobatic fighting skills, all without breaking
stride or looking up or opening her mouth.
She pulls open the door to her
classroom, pulls out her notebook and begins taking notes.
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