Metanoia

Chapter 2: The Needle

• Ivory •

I am enjoying my new room. I am glad that the rooms are not shared and have so much space. I have organized my items perfectly, and decorated it with all my favorite things. I put my giraffe plushes and all of my other stuffed animals on my bed neatly, and placed carefully upon shelves. My bed is a queen size, and I am grateful for the comfort it provides.

I am constantly exhausted, but there is no point in complaining. Nothing can change how tired I become, it just grows more and more over time. My bedding is my favorite color, red. Red expresses everything I feel. I love red because red is just like me. Red for love, hearts. Red for embarrassment, blushing. Red for sorrow, eyes reddened and crying. Red for pain, for a broken body on fire. Red for everything. Do you see it now? I love red. My clothes are mostly black and red. I do like purples. Purple is good for special occasions. Purple is euphoric. I also love purple. But mostly red.

I hear a ding from the doorbell and it knocks me out of my mind. It must be the groceries I ordered, I forgot I got those. I am bringing in the groceries and putting them away in the fridge. I made sure to purchase enough for two people, but I don't know how late my roommate will be. I have thought a bit about who they may be, what they look like, or what they are like. I try not to get hooked on to any ideas or expectations. I never get my hopes up, I learned that lesson a long time ago.

Finally I am getting ready to sleep, I can't wait to sleep, the first day of University life starts tomorrow. I wonder about the accessibility of the campus. Will they have a wheelchair ramp? A place to safely store crutches? What about elevators or an infirmary? I have learned that being handicapped comes with the realization that you can not expect to have accessibility like that in a world that was never made for the weak links in the chain. But, a girl can dream.

I wash my face, put on my sports bra and my soft pants, and sleep with the lights on. The lights always stay on. I close my eyes, trying to push away the thoughts of what tomorrow might bring. I know the nasty glares I will get, and even the painfully over-compensational people who may treat me like a child. Sometimes I don't know which is worse. I hope I can make some friends, I can hold on to some hope there, although I am not good at talking to people or eye contact. What if they think I'm rude?

BEEP BEEP! I gasp and suddenly I'm awake. It's still dark outside, but I check the time. My heart is palpitating. I sit up fully, taking a breath and taking my blood pressure monitor up from my nightstand. The vertigo and the stars are really setting in now. I take my blood pressure and the monitor now reads the diastolic and systolic numbers as 70/40. Knowing these big words is pretty cool except for the fact that it comes with these ailments. My blood pressure is extremely low and my chest hurts, like someone is trying to rip my heart out with a paper shredder. Yet, I carry on, reaching for my morning pills. They all have fancy scientific names, and I have them all memorized. It's an exhausting thing to keep up with. I take one for my blood pressure, I take one for my palpitations, I take one big one for stomach acid but choke on it in the process, so I had to try again with another, and then again. I guess I'll need that one refilled sooner than I thought. I take my vitamins, I take my iron. I'm almost like a faulty machine with leaks on every important liquid I require, only able to just barely function so long as those liquids are topped off over and over again, with no way to permanently fix the underlying issues. Unfortunate.

I feel as if I am the world's biggest pessimist. I can keep myself afloat, I've come this far already anyway. I smile and take a deep breath. The smile is my façade, too, but right now it is genuine. I am on my own until my roommate arrives, I am finally attending University and am an adult. I am in a lot of pain this morning, but I should try my best to make a good impression on my professors. My smile fades quickly as I snap out of thought. That was a rare positive moment, it would be nice if I could have those more often without the crippling self-doubt that eats away after being confident just once. I have to stand now. . .

I keep losing chunks of time, but I just go with it these days. It's like my brain is finally shutting down slowly, like I am a robot with missing code. I roll myself onto campus. My wheelchair needs one of the breaks fixed, I can feel it wobble as I go. I'm afraid people will be unforgiving if they see me walk or stand. Even though I can walk, I can't for very long or for very far. My body must be cursed. I remember my pep-talk from this morning and try my hardest to shake off the negative. There are so many people here, but most of what I see are butts. Asses in my face, everywhere I look. I bet lots of people out there are into that. I chuckle at the dumb thought, I laugh at the lamest jokes. But I guess I was distracted by my scatterbrained self, because the handsome guy I've been eyeballing a little too much while invested in my thoughts is giving me the death glare. A shiver down my back feels cold and brutal, and my face heats up. That was embarrassing, and it's worse that he is in front of me walking the same direction that I need to get to class. This campus is quite frustrating to navigate in a wheelchair, but I guess I shouldn't complain much.

I do feel rather anxious as there is a downhill slope I am coming down. I feel my wheelchair speeding up slightly and I press on the breaks, it caused me to slow down enough that I only barely bumped the crystal-eyed delight who I got caught staring at before. I must be hormonal and distracted or something, gross. But those eyes are so icy and silver-blue, and his build is strong and tall. He looks as if he was blessed by god himself and was a messenger from Heaven itself. The problem is that those gorgeous diamond orbs are now awfully dark and full of disdain, and again, I am embarrassed. How can I just stare at him and say nothing? "I am so sorry, sir! Are you alright?" As the words escaped my lips, anxiety and regret gnawed at my insides. I feel horrible. "Do I look okay to you? damn cripple..." His snarled words slashed through me like a dagger, deepening the wounds of both shame and physical pain. His brows furrow into a deep, dark, angry sort of grin. Have I heard worse? Sure. Does it ever stop hurting? I wish.

"Sir, I am so sorry, my wheelchair brakes are messed up and I couldn't stop in time." His demeanor isn't as handsome as he looks. "Then get them fixed, dumbass! And look at people when you're apologizing, retard!" He exclaims pompously as he raises his hand high in the air and forces it towards me. I can feel the air compressing in my direction as he moves giving me no time to react. . .