Turns out I wasn't fooling after all. In the last half of freshman year, I received my first pair of glasses. Some of my irritation with people subsided as the headaches stopped with my improved vision. However, an allergy to nickel created sores over my temples. Accustomed to pain, they went unnoticed until they spread beyond the frame. The sores went untreated for months. By the time my mother caught sight of them, there were large bloody scabs on each side of my face where the metal rubbed.
Doctors also discovered my aching back and swelling feet came from the way my feet grew. High arches and high insteps coupled with structural issues provided the reason for my discomfort and coordination problems, earning me custom orthotics. These could hide in my shoes, and other than needing to wear a more expensive pair with instructions to avoid certain designs like the slanted heals of running shoes, no one knew.
It felt nice to wear Nike and Adidas like my peers, but the process of realigning created more pain as my body adjusted to the changes. Between the original affliction and now this, I often refused to take part in gym. When terrible menstrual cramps brought me to curl up on the bleachers in tears, it furthered everyone's belief in my dramatization. Adding birth control to the mix lessened the cramps, but they remained dreadful.
The ridicule I obtained in the past at home and still received in school made me angry. It became impossible to convince anyone that my actions were not a ploy. Each attempt at explaining left me more frustrated than the last where few regarded me as anything other than attention seeking. Everything I said went unheard unless someone else could back up my statement, leaving me with no one except my boyfriend, best friend, and the friends in homeroom. As my boyfriend found himself in every one of my classes, it saw me cling to him, further isolating myself from everyone else.
Homeroom resided the only place we did not share. Yet, due to my problems and the treatment I received from classmates, he walked me to the room and picked me up after, creating the need to justify his constant presence as I came to require the routine of our relationship. By then, even my friends started to understand the importance he played in my life and why I needed him.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy I Could Never Love
Non-FictionYou know I always liked you?" When you carry a pit of self-loathing, your world resides in your head. Bullying and a dysfunctional home life contributed to my contempt for myself. I could not stand the skin I lived in. My name brought me pain. Eve...
