I'm Not Okay (I Promise) • Geetrick

1

---Patrick---

It started with a single, precious thought. One I never thought would come to me three years earlier. The thought? A question.

Have you ever wanted to disappear?

Leave. Move to another city. Another state. Another country. Another continent, maybe. Have you ever wanted to leave everyone behind and never look back? To completely forget about your life and start new, fresh. All over again. Have you ever wanted to run, and make your own life somewhere else? Somewhere you won't be judged or hurt or confused. Have you ever felt alone, rejected, confused, lost. Anxious, wronged, dirty, angry, ashamed, used. I've felt the same way.

I'm scared. I'm terrified. Every time I look up at the clock, my heart earns a new dagger straight through the center, splattering red on the walls of my ribcage. I hate where I am. I hate what's going to happen. I hate the fear, but I know I can't escape it. It only keeps building and building and building, up and up and up, I only have five more hours. Five more hours of this before I go back to...

I can't say it, whenever I even try, it feels like my tongue becomes numb in my mouth and everything just stops. It's just something that I don't talk about. I never have and I never will. Nobody will ever know why I always sit in the back of class without a friend. Without anyone, really. I'm alone. I've been alone for a while longer than I've always been scared but that's okay. I don't need anyone. I don't want anyone. I'm okay with being alone. I've gone this long, I could probably go the rest of my life alone. It wouldn't be that hard, would it? No. I would be fine going the rest of my life without a friend. An acquaintance. I have plenty of enemies, yes, but friends and colleagues are things I could go without.

The clock is moving fast as I gaze up at it. The smaller hand rotating smoothly and quickly around the epicenter. One second is gone, then two, three, four, five. It's too fast to be normal. Seven, eight. Another dagger of fear through my heart. Nine, ten.

I find myself shifting in my seat uncomfortably, my palms sweaty and my fingers shaky while the thought of what lies ahead is pressed into my mind like a hot brand, engraving the words: be afraid. The only way to escape is to distract myself but sometimes even distracting myself doesn't work. It might work now. I don't want to try, though. I have class, and Ms. Kristen gets mad at me when I let my mind wander. She doesn't like anyone not paying attention to class. Then again, none of my teachers do. Except for Mr. Cumberbatch maybe.

"Patrick!" Ms. Kristen snaps, dragging me out of the abyss of my thoughts just like I assumed she would.

I look up at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue with a gleam of, no, that's not confidence, but nervousness in my eye. Pure, raw anxiety in its cleanest form. Nothing stopping it from shining out. My shoulders hunched, my hands hidden by my sleeves, clenched and quivering, my eyes teary in fear but I quickly press it back. Nobody can see me cry. They call me a faggot for that.

The whole class is watching the silent encounter between us. The tension between teacher and student, and I can't help but shrink back even more than I already was in my seat. It makes me uncomfortable, everything about this and I know I'm supposed to answer something. A question, a problem but I don't know which one and I don't know if I'll get the answer right when I can't even solve my own problems and I don't know if she even called on me to answer and I'm so scared of embarrassing myself that instead, I sit still as stone, waiting for her to continue, probably looking like an absolute idiot as I grip my seat. After what feels like an eternity, Ms. Kristen finally speaks up with a small, "Patrick, do you know the answer to Question A?"

My eyes slide to the board at the front of the class before I swallow, pushing my fear and nervousness down as best as I can. I evaluate the question for a few short moments, my breathing shaky and quick as I panic because I wasn't paying attention. I was too distracted, and I told myself I wouldn't be distracted.