A slow fall

Chapter 12 - Caleb

My apathy for life was ever present, my facade succeeding in dissuading those around me, but at times my emotions nosedived; suddenly pretending was impossible.

Everything I'd felt that week, all the emotions I had repressed, hit me full force once I returned home from Shane's house. I didn't stay there long, every minute it got harder and harder to function and I knew what this meant. I knew where it was leading me, and I needed to leave before I shut down completely.

My mother reluctantly picked me up. Shane only lived a few blocks away and yet my mother acted as if she had done the work of a saint. I'm not sure if what she did was beyond what was expected of a parent or not. I thanked her, obviously, what more she wanted from me I wasn't sure.

I soon passed the point of caring. The week had been long and tiresome, my lack of sleep made me feel like a walking corpse and faking everything only drained me more. I wonder if my smiles seemed as forced as they were, or if my input in conversations came across as scripted as it felt. To me my acts of deception seemed painfully obvious and I was sure they appeared as such, but I'd been lying for so long I think I'd perfected the art.

At some point even artists lose their inspiration.

Every call I received on Monday was silenced. Every text left unopened. Every function my body required to exist went ignored.

My mind and my body were enemies, both holding a gun and waiting for the countdown to sound to see who would come out on top.

No matter who won, I was always the victim. 

It was Wednesday before I began to function like a human again, though not through choice.

My parents disproved of my 'episodes' and believed I used them as an excuse to miss school. They used to drag me out of bed and force me out of the house. That in itself was a feat, my parents would say words to me that my brain couldn't make sense of and require me to do things I couldn't comprehend.

Going to school like that was hell. I could barely function let alone act like a normal human around my peers. Sometimes I would just feign sickness – I suppose I was sick in some sense – and either get myself sent home, or camp out with the nurse all day.

When I got sent home my parents would always complain about my sense of entitlement and how this was only a product of being coddled and teenage angst, but the disruption to their own lives led to them letting me stay off when it became too hard for me to function.

My absences roused suspicion from my friends and concern from my teachers, but both me and my parents had learnt how to lie. I wonder how long this can go on for before someone's suspicion grows beyond what our lies can dissuade.

After a while my parents began to understand it was best to leave me alone when I was like this. That doesn't mean they had to understand or empathise with me. In their words: I needed to man up and deal with it. 

God is testing me and I'm failing.

On Monday and Tuesday, they didn't both me. I stayed in my room, the curtains closed, and my bed cover pulled up in an attempt to escape the world. The growling of my stomach was a reminder that I needed food, but I lacked an appetite. The only reason I moved was to use the toilet. Still, I waited until the liquid painfully pushed against my bladder before reluctantly dragging myself to the bathroom.

We had guest coming over Wednesday night. Even if I did have the effort to argue with my parents over it, I had no choice in the matter. When my mother came home from work and I was still curled up in my bed, seemingly unreceptive to her words, my free will was also taken away.