My Cage

I spent most of my life pretending. I was afraid of what everyone would throw at me.

I remember curling on my bed, crying until my throat was torn raw. An orb of darkness surrounded me -- a darkness created by anxiety and terror, choking me until I felt that the world around me would disappear forever, drowned behind the walls surrounding me. I thought that wherever I went, I would stay hidden behind the darkness, slowly drowning in my fears and pains. I remember pounding against the blackness, desperate to be free; desperate to feel the breeze against my skin. To hear the birds chirping overhead. To feel blades of grass against my bare feet. But I was caged. I felt like a mouse, caught in a trap, struggling to be free. My prison would cloud my thoughts, blurring my vision until all I knew was the pounding of my head and the voices echoing, telling me I wasn't good enough -- that I would never be accepted for who I am. I was never the popular girl; never the confident one. But I pretended. Every time I walked in class, I would plaster a smile on my face, doing my best to hide the rivalling emotions inside me, but the expression 'fake it til you make it' can only go so far. I never raised my hand, never was the one to speak up or to voice my opinion. I only smiled and nodded, pretending to go along with anything someone else would say. But all plays come to an end. No one knew what was under the surface. No one ever knew just how trapped I was. No one saw the girl pounding against an orb of darkness, pain and fear. They could only ever see the girl smiling and nodding, going along with anything they said. Human eyes can only go so far. No one saw the suffering. Only Mr. Whiskers. I would come home to our apartment, collapsing on my bed, exhausted by all of the smiles and nods. Mr. Whiskers would crawl up next to me, sitting and watching me with large eyes. He was an overweight, grey cat, filled with secrets and no one to tell. I used to like to think he was filled with all of my anxiety, making him into the fattest cat I knew.

***

I can hear their voices jeering and hollering at me. I only stand there, motionless as I watch them surround me, laughing. Their voices echo in my mind, until the world sways.

Who do you think you are?

Such a pitiful creature.

Shouldn't you go find your Shrek, princess?

I remember every spiteful comment, every acidic word, echoing in my mind. I would penetrate the black orb around me. The words would bounce off the wall, getting louder and louder.

Poor little girl. Too bad no one ever bothers to come pick you up after school. Is your mother going to forget about you? Again?

Their cruel laughter bites my skin. I pound against the walls around me, but nothing works. Agony and fear creeps in my joins as they push me against the school wall. I bite my lip, clutching my school bag against my chest as they torment me; as their life-sucking voices build layer after layer of hopelessness and fear around me and as the darkness around me grows thicker and thicker.

***

As I look back, I can still feel the impact of words against my skin, pelting on me like hail. I can remember running home, climbing up the stairs to my apartment and collapsing on my bed, its springs creaking against my weight. I can still feel the pillow pressed against my face, making it hard to breath, as it sucked up all my tears. I remember Mr. Whiskers jumping up next to me, the metal frame screeching in protest. I can still feel his thick, grey fur against my arm as he sits down next to me. He would always watch me until I had no more tears to give. Until I was ready to continue pretending. Then he would walk over and sit on my lap, purring happily as I scratched behind his ears. Only he and my pillow ever knew about my tears, and it would stay like that for a long, long time.

***

Sydney Lapelskey walked up to me, eyes glaring murderously.

I remain silent, clutching my book against my chest. My bottom lip trembles in fear as I watch him get closer and closer.

"Hello, hello, hello," his voice booms, echoing in the empty hallway.

I take a step back, flattening myself against my locker. My fingers tremble as I watch him approach, knuckles cracking. I lower my head, waiting for the blow -- for the nasty words.

"Leave her alone," calls a voice. I look up to see someone standing at the end of the hallway.

"Why would I do that?" Sydney yells back.

The boy walks closer. Sydney grins evilly, happy for twice the prey. For twice the kill. I try to slide away from him but he kicks me in the shins.

"Trying to escape, you little mutt?" he says, followed by a sequence of words I would have had to eat an entire bar of soap for.

The next ting I know, Sydney is on the ground, moaning. I look up, terrified at the boy who stands in front of me, rubbing his knuckles, painfully.

"I said, leave her alone, Lapelskey," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

He looks up at me.

"Name's Tommy."

***

I will never forget the feeling of absolute shock as I looked at the boy who'd stuck up for me. It had never crossed my mind that someone would do that for me -- for me. For a stranger. But it was something that made me stop. Made the orb of darkness around me ripple with uncertainty. I still remember the smile he gave as I set out towards my apartment. That day, I didn't cry. That day, I only sat down, mind lost in thought. Mr. Whiskers had climbed up, putting his head to the side as if confused before shaking it off and laying down on my lap. I remember smiling, petting him as he stretched, joints down his spine cracking as he did so. I laughed before stopping, listening to the sound echo. I looked back, watching the orb of darkness melt away, sliding down onto my bed before disappearing forever. That's when I realized that the all my anxiety, all my fears didn't follow me, I brought them with me. I never let them go and I eventually found I couldn't, that I was trapped. But that day, listening to the sound of my own laughter, I realized that maybe there was hope after all.

I still remember the two words I texted Tommy that night: Thank you.

***

I stand in front of the mirror for a moment, uncertain. Finally I give in and smile. What I see looking back at me isn't anxiety; it isn't painful memories. What I see, staring back at me is a girl, a woman, with a beautiful smile. Someone I never saw before. Or maybe I just never believed it was me. For the first time, I didn't see a girl, scared and terrified. I saw who I could choose to be. The one I could choose to believe in.

And so I choose to believe.

Note: I know I am not the only one who has, or will be, been trapped like this -- stuck in my own head. It can be more dangerous than any substance. Please, if you are, or know someone who is, you need to stop and look around at the beautiful world around you and know that you belong in it, no matter what people might tell you -- or what you might tell yourself.