I'm sitting here waiting
Waiting
For this to end
Everything does eventually.
Almost everything. I'm not talking about anything specific
Unless I made you think of something
Because I'm talking about that.

I drop my pencil under a guy's chair and my friend convinces me to ask him for it back because "he's nice I promise" so I work up the courage to call his name as loud as I dare and I just start talking so I can tell him what happened before I lose my nerve, but halfway through I notice he's not listening at all and instead of asking for my pencil I ask him to ignore me. He does.
I met a boy and he was intriguing and clever and sarcastic and not unattractive and I thought he had potential but I waved in the hall and he didn't wave back and he didn't want to sit next to me in class.
I invite a boy I've known since 3rd grade to sit next to me in class, and he does, but then his friend shows up and there's a wistful look in his eyes. He doesn't talk to me, and he switches his seat the next day.
I sit at a crowded lunch table full of people I don't like because the people I do are outcasts. I don't have time to eat all my food.
I switch lunch tables to sit with my crush, by invitation of a friend. They ignore me to talk to each other. I try to join. I ask what's so funny. They shake their heads. He's sitting almost on top of me because the tables are so small but he never even turns to look at me.
Last year he sat with us and talked mostly to me and her table was having drama and fighting and now they all wear skirts to school and look pretty and my eyes are puffy and my legs have a light layer of fuzz which is easy to see because I'm still so pale.
I was the only person to sit alone on the first day of biology class and when I walked in the second day a girl who's never been particularly nice to me and wasn't in the class yesterday is there. She's excited to see me. She asks me to sit next to her. She looks at my paper while I write. I don't say anything because I don't want to sit alone anymore.
I'm stressed out by the second day. Unprepared.
718 more days.

No one knows the horrible thoughts within my head,
I grow tired of faking normal.
I look into the mirror and hate who is staring back.

The daymares are worse than the nightmares because they come without warning.
It is hard to fake normal when the daymares come and tears stream and the shaking begins.
I run for a place to close a door and lock it.
Lock out the world and grab my hair and pull and pull so hard that I try to pull the scenes out of my head.

I see them over and over every day. I hear the sounds. I lose my breath when the triggers come.
I tell my doctor that I am tired of faking normal.
I ask for medicine that will make me feel numb.

He asks me, "When was the last time you were happy?"
I pause, I think. I don't  remember.
My family doesn't understand so I have to fake normal.
I tell him I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Do something.
He says. I want you to seek counseling.
NO. It doesn't work.
Please.
NO. Just give me something so I won't think anymore.

I know that this PTSD is winning. Faking normal is coming to an end.
My doctor looks at me for the first time with the saddest eyes and says, "I'm worried about you."
I think to myself, You should be.