Imena

Imena and I are polar opposites. I'm ugly, she's pretty. I'm dumb, she's smart. I'm quiet, she's loud. I'm unpopular, she's popular. I'm shy yet she is one of the most confident and outgoing people you shall ever meet. She isn't the type of popular, confident girl who you'd see in a movie- the ones who seem "confident" to other people but deep down are insecure. The ones that go home and cry and stare into the mirror for hours looking at what they've become and wishing they could disappear from society and live a private and unnoticed life just like the "quiet kids" of the world. Well believe me being the quiet kid and being the falsely labelled confident kid are both as soul destroying as the other. But Imena is another story. It makes her unique and she genuinely is the singular only confident kid who actually, honestly feels good about themselves whom I have ever known or heard of. 

You are probably wondering why I am talking so much about some random girl who is clearly someone I aspire to be and now you are probably guessing that I have some kind of obsession with this girl. So I suppose it will come as a large shock to you when I reveal that Imena and I are indeed best friends. We have been for as long as we can remember and I have never met a soul who the possibility of mine and Imena's friendship would even cross the mind of. Not many people know that we are best friends but we both know that we could trust each other with our lives, therefore other people bearing the knowledge that we are friends does not matter to either of us. 

If you couldn't already infer this; I am what people like to label as an introvert. And Imena is most certainly an extrovert. I'm quiet and unpretentious and nobody at school knows who I am, well the few people that are aware of my existence view me as the abnormally quiet girl. I hate imagining how people view me, just the thought of their impression of me leaves me in a state of panic and apprehension. I don't go to school much, I don't think that I could physically deal with attending that hell as frequently as children my age are supposed to. It would obliterate me mentally. I have no friends at school anyways so I struggle to last there as long as lunch time without breaking down, and that's if I manage to last until after break. Maybe you are confused why I don't sit with Imena in school, the thing is I would love it if I could but she goes to a different school to me. I often wish I could go to her school however, like I said, she is highly intelligent and also hugely gifted in athletics unlike me so she goes to a high profile, posh, private school right through town where she managed to get herself a scholarship to fund her education there due to her unimaginable academic and sporting abilities. 

She does visit my house on weekends and on some weekdays when she can make it. She has countless school friends- her outgoing and bubbly personality leaves people in awe and desperate to get to know her so she often goes places with her school friends. Though I am the childhood best friend and main priority to her and she goes out of her way for us to meet up and talk and have fun especially when I am struggling mentally. She is the only person who brings me out of my depressive states and genuinely supports my mental health massively. She can tell when I feel worst and is always here for me just as I am for her. 

Another thing you have probably assumed by now is that I have some mental health issues, well you are correct about that. I am clearly not an expert in socialising and I despise meeting new people because I couldn't hold a conversation to save my life and I get paranoid that people are judging me and talking about me behind my back so I'd rather remain how I am, only talking and associating with the people I already do. My social anxiety makes carrying out every day activities a challenge . For example; I have a doctors appointment next week and I have hardly slept ever since I found out that I do. I imagine every possible outcome of my trip to the doctors and I try to plan what I will do and say. I imagine occurrences that could be embarrassing and I create plans to prevent these embarrassments. I am an overthinker. I wish I wasn't. Imena isn't an overthinker. I don't understand how one can not be an overthinker but I sure do wish that I wasn't one. 

It is now the morning before my appointment which is arranged at 4:35pm and I have had three panic attacks. If you aren't aware of what it feels like to have a panic attack, then you should be glad that they are not a reality for you. My heart races, my palms start to sweat, every inch of my body shakes so much that it feels like they are convulsing, I have to fight for the air to reach my lungs, I get weaker and weaker, I feel dizzy, my hands begin to tingle, I experience severe chest pain that makes me feel as if I am having a heart attack, my stomach feels like someone has tied it in a knot and is pulling the knot tighter and tighter and I feel nauseous. I hope for a miracle that I don't have a panic attack while I am at the doctors. Imagine how many people would be judging me if that happened. And what am I supposed to wear when I go there? Do I need to do my makeup? I don't want people talking about how ugly I am to their friends. But I cant do my makeup in case it all goes wrong and I look even worse than I naturally do. It's a lose lose situation just like most situations in my difficult and unbearable life. I wish I was living the life of Imena. She doesn't have to worry about doing her makeup because she is naturally stunning. she doesn't have to worry about people judging her because everyone wants to be her, they're jealous of her as am I. And she undoubtedly does not need to worry about having a panic attack- she's never had one of those. I wish I was her.

We are at the doctors. We arrived bang on time so (luckily) I didn't have to sit in the waiting room with all the other people. We enter the room and I have to sit right in front of the doctor's desk. He can see my whole face from here, I don't like it. At least my mum is here to do the talking. "How are we?" he asks. 

"Not too well" says my mum. Not too well? I think. Why has she said that? It's the same as ever so do we count that as not too well? Overthinking again. "How do you mean?" asks the doctor. 

And my mum says "Imena is back." Back? What on Earth is my mum talking about? Is she trying to sabotage me? Has she turned against me? My own mother? Then the doctor asks "has she not been taking her meds?" No I haven't been taking my meds. I don't need them. They're useless. I'm not crazy. I don't tell him this though, I wait for my mum's answer, "No" she tells him and he looks over at me with a glance of disappointment. "Schizophrenia is a serious disorder, you need to take them!" he tells me.