Just don’t worry about it, just don’t worry about, is what I’m told over and over. Let it go, you're just overthinking. None of this helps my head as I spiral into a chaotic mess. What I carry is something no one will ever understand. When they try they say you’re just overreacting, just don’t worry about it. This weight I carry is invisible but is the heaviest pot of stones that I hide in my chest. Every step I take it seems to get heavier. I try to breathe but the air escapes and won’t come back. I slowly inch to the Lunch Room.  All the thoughts in my head start clouding my judgment “he doesn’t hate you”, ”breathe” ”calm down” ”You’re fine”. YOU’RE FINE!?! This thought attacks my brain. I’m fine- I don’t feel fine. What if this never goes away, what if… what if… what if… and it begins.

The pasty white hallways with the grimy ceiling in the sky. All I see is the brown stained floors that we all know they haven’t been cleaned since the beginning of time. The dirt sticks to my shoes with every step I take. This was a normal day. The cinderblock palace is hot like an oven. The hallways smell of pink flowers of the spring mixed with the disgusting overlay of body odor. None of this was really on my mind as I walked these halls on this dreaded day. The time flies, the bell rings, cueing my stomach to growl.  Freedom from that day of stress for just 25 minutes. But this day was different, walking into the room of stale cheese sticks my heart starts to sputter. The popular girls are overtaking the table, crawling over day by day, bit by bit. Seth wants to shuffle over to his friends, who unlike me has enough confidence to do so. While I want to go sit on plastic circles next to the person that is causing most my stress. I sternly told him “I’m going to come sit by you if you like it or not”. This did not happen. My anxiety got the best of me. Telling me, no matter where I sit I won’t be accepted. What if his friends didn’t want me there, what if I just sit there and no one talks to me. This thought along with the rest of this ever going story engulf my brain. I began to spiral into a deep dark pit being consumed by all the thoughts. I give in, I sit being squished next to the pushy long hair girl that frightens the nerd inside of me, not knowing what to do. I don’t know what to do. ‘I don’t know what to do’ is repeated in an endless loop in my head. Seth knows I’m not ok, and he just looked at me and saw my glistening eyes on the verge of bursting.  He did ask if I was ok, or did he, or is that just what I want myself to think. He watched me run away in a panic and he did not follow to make sure I was ok. I make it through lunch shook to my core, but alright.

(flashback)

The boy with short buzzed hair and deep soft brown eyes. These things were not important to the wild 13-year-old me who seemed to be heading in the right direction. The class everyone dreads; health. In this class is where we met for the first time. (flash) Throughout the time I got to know him. He was free, nothing held him back. He looked at you like you were everything, even if you were hurting him. We were friends, just friends. That's not what everyone else wanted us to be though. Everyone, I mean everyone, wanted us to be a couple. Back then this didn’t matter, back then relationships were not important, but now in high school, they seem to mean everything. The peer pressure to be in a relationship with anyone. The world kept putting pressures us, mostly me. Things like you guys would look so cute together, got to us. He still just wanted to be friends. This is what he said but is that what he meant?  The boy with the awkward smile, the boy that made me feel like me. He may not talk to me 24/7, we may not act like best friends, but we are. When I talk to him, the words escape my mouth, never to be analyzed beforehand. My hands don’t shake, I’m just me around him. At least this what it was like, what it was like before. The month that continued after we hung out was equivalent to the underworld. So many loose ends that could only be solved by talking to him, right? But no, I was too scared to do that, still too scared. He’s different now. Dating someone else. I’m happy for him, they work very well together. Except, there's a problem. This girl he’s “dating” is not only known for cheating but had her mother come where I work and tell her most current ex that her daughter loves him. What? I care about my friend more than anything else. I won’t let him get hurt, but I think I might have to. If only he would listen to me.  

I swallow my anxiety, like trying to drink cold medicine when you are a kid. Choking on the worry. And when you finally think that it’s gone the feeling is still there, you still feel like there's something in your throat when it has already passed. The month went on and my anxiety evolved from attacks of worry where I couldn’t stop the lukewarm tears from rushing down my face to where I would just sit still and spiral into a pit of my own thoughts. I just wanted to hide in a corner of the world not to be noticed. I also want someone to notice or say something, to prove to me that I wasn’t invisible. This was normal but that month they changed to be silent. I would sit there slowly sinking into a hole but the feeling was different, deeper. This scared me. I was starting to let this thing I carry, carry me instead. I was ready to give up. Step by step, moment by moment I realized I couldn’t do this. This all changed the day of the homecoming dance.

The boy that made my anxiety disappear in seconds, the boy that relieved me from the weight, was also causing me to carry my worry and his, and he did not even have to say a word. Not talking to me. Never explained what this meant. Caused my brain to run in circles. I was done. Done not knowing. This was the night I found out he liked the other girl. You would think this would tear me apart. It didn't. Just knowing how he felt released the pressure that I was carrying. The weight of the thought of a relationship was lifted. This moment helped me realize that I need to figure myself out before anything else.

Months after, I’m still terrified for him. The problem with the thing I carry is that not only do I carry my own anxiety, I also take others’ worries. What if he gets hurt? What if by him getting hurt he’ll go completely silent? What if this time he won’t bounce back? With all these negative thoughts running through my brain I start to think, what if my life was a dumb romantic comedy? What would happen? He would get hurt, crushed, squashed into the ground by this girl. With him being in this state I would be there to peel him back up, but that’s just a fairy tale. And no matter what I do, I will always care about him even if he hates me.