SDMN| Stories

• ALONE | JOSH

THERE ARE THINGS PEOPLE don't tell you about growing up. Things that can't be said, taught or learnt. Things that Josh wished he knew earlier. He was 18 now, starting his 6th form year, and life couldn't be much worse.

His life consists of waking up, getting high, going to about one class, wagging, then coming back home. School just didn't work out well for him, although he was smart, he just didn't see the point of most of his classes. Math? He knew the basics. English? There's no need. Science? He wasn't going to be a scientist. PE? Very pointless. Art? Well, he didn't know, he never went to an art lesson. Other classes such as social studies were just boring, and Josh just found no motivation to show up.

Life wasn't always this way though. There was a time, back in 10th grade, at a measly 15 years old, where he enjoyed life. He had friends, his grades were high, he went to school every day, he was even on the football team. That's how your teenage years were meant to go, anyways.

He wished he would've known how fake people can be, how cruel and rough the real world was. But alas, there were no warnings. Nothing to stop a young man from getting fucked around, emotions toyed with, nothing to stop him went he went spiraling down a rabbit hole.

Josh was diagnosed with severe anxiety at 15, and it came as a shock to most. How can someone so smart and kind, funny and outgoing, have such bad anxiety? Whatever the reasoning, it was true.

His first panic attack came later that year, in the shower. Earlier that day he had been to a funeral, that of a distant older relative. They weren't close, in fact, he wasn't sure they'd ever met, but he was still obligated to attend. And the day was normal enough, well as normal as going to a funeral could get, besides one small aspect. It wasn't until after the service, at home, that Josh had realised. He didn't cry at the funeral, come to think of it, he didn't remember feeling sad at all. He simply just sat there, information being fed to him as he did nothing but listen.

This realisation came as a shock to him, a big one at that. He could recall running to the bathroom, insisting he just needed some warm water to set his head straight. But once the water was on, he was unable to move. His back slunk down the wall, and he just sat under the stream of water. Tears began to sting his eyes.

What's wrong with you? You didn't cry. It was a funeral. Someone died. Gone. No longer here. They don't exist anymore. You'll be like that one day. You're going to die. It could happen at any moment. One day you won't be here anymore. Freak. You're going to die. Dead. Nothing. Empty, nothing.

Intrusive thoughts crowded his mind and he began to shake, the tears now streaming down his cheeks. His chest felt heavy and his breath was forced to speed up to get any air in at all. Instinctively he brought his knees up to his chest and buried his head, allowing the water to cascade down his back. That's how he stayed. For half an hour until his mother came in.

-

A ray of sunlight slipped into Josh's otherwise dark room, and that's what he was greeted with, right in the eye, as he awoke. Grumbling to himself and shielding his eyes, he dragged himself out of bed. Checking the time, he could see he was late, almost two classes late, to school. On the second day, too. Not that he had gone to school at all the previous day, he told himself that the first day was unimportant, so he spent it in his usual hangout.

His hangout was somewhere he'd spend a lot of his time, although it never really had a name. Then again, it didn't need a name. If he never shared it with anyone, it never had to be spoken of, therefore never addressed by a name. Although it was nothing more than a small clearing behind an abandoned house, his hangout had some meaning to him. He'd go there to get high, escape the reality that he hated so much, and he was sure he'd never stop going there.