Taylor Swift Comfort Imagines

Worthless

My depression has been really bad lately. Getting up every day is a daunting task: anxiety gnaws at my insides, and I am filled with dread for the day ahead of me. I sometimes tell myself that not showing up would have little to no effect on anyone. My friends just tolerate me, and I'm not very smart or involved. 

I drag my body to my last class of the day: AP precalculus. I see 'tests back' written on the board, and anxiety floods my body. My AP precalculus teacher was passing back our tests, dread creeping into my body as he comes closer to my desk. I studied really hard for this test, because I didn't do so well on the past 2 quizzes, which dropped my grade to a C. I do not like it when I don't have straight A's, because I'm not smart or talented, so my grades are all I have. 

As I glance down at my paper, I see a big, red 67. I feel so stupid; I just know that I'm going nowhere in life. I did all of the homework for this unit, read and outlined the textbook chapter, and did extra practice problems. It still didn't make any sense to me whatsoever, and the D is front of me reflects that. The red sharpie is a reminder of how I will never be smart or talented like Taylor or my parents, and how I am an unfixable stain on my family's reputation for being smart and talented. 

I hear the chatter of my peers, discussing how they did better than they thought and how it was an easier test. This just confirms my belief that I am stupid: I did poorly on an easy test. Thoughts swirl in my mind, asking why I couldn't be as smart or high-achieving as my peers. Why I did more and got less out of it. Why couldn't I stop procrastinating? Why can't I balance it all?

I hold back my tears as I take notes on the next unit, as classes are fast-paced at my school: When one unit ends, the next one begins immediately. There wasn't enough time to try to understand my mistakes or ask for help. Most of my classes feel too fast for me, and my friends have made jokes about me being "slow" or a "space cadet".

A few tears stream down my face, as I try to focus on my teacher's voice and drown out the critical voice in my head and chatter of my peers. I could ask to go to the counselor, but then I'd probably miss something important. There is no time for processing emotions in my life: it would just make me even more worthless. I should always be doing something to make myself worthwhile. I feel bad for not doing well, since my parents wanted me to receive the best education possible. But, I feel like I could implode under the pressure at any moment. My feeling stupid is not a new feeling; I have never been smart. I always had to work hard for my grades, sacrificing my mental health and sleep. As the class wraps up, I walk home through the snow, not wanting to ask for a driver. My friends have also made jokes about my receiving "special treatment" and being a "snob". 

I checked the family calendar today, and it looks like I'm in luck to cry alone in my room with the lights off. My parents are out of town and Taylor is at the studio. 

As I open the front door, my emotions have built up to a level where I can no longer hold them back. The floodgates open, as my sobs echo through the whole house. I always bottle my emotions up until I'm alone, and then they're louder and more intense. 

"Y/n, love, what's wrong?" I hear a soft voice from the staircase, and footsteps approaching the doorway. Through my tears I can see that it's Taylor, she's supposed to be at the studio. Not here, where I was supposed to be able to cry alone. I feel myself being pulled into a hug, enveloped in Taylor's soft hoodie. I hate how vulnerable I am when someone comforts me, I start crying harder, my sobs growing louder and my breath hitches in my throat. "It's alright, let it all out. I'm right here," Taylor says, hugging me tighter, softly rubbing my back. We stay like that until my crying slows down a little bit. She pulls back slightly, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and guides me to the living room, giving me a blanket, which I wrap around myself.