I woke up late, needing to get ready for school. A wave of emotions takes over. I started off another day failing to meet the expectations I set for myself. These expectations look like dragging a rock as you walk up a steep hill. It feels like a stinging pain when you don’t reach what you wanted. The feeling of embarrassment surrounding your body when something seems to not go right. Trying to break the tradition of mistakes in order to be comfortable. When everything appears ok, it will not last forever. The expectations look like roadblocks, but miles high. It feels like the anticipation of going down a roller-coaster but never getting to the top of the first hill. This is what makes expectations feel so heavy.
          School starts. I walk down the dull hallways of school at 7:30 am. The sound of footsteps, people running, voices, and conversations fill the air. The brisk, monotonous corridors seem to stretch on and on. I ask myself if I should have stayed home, knowing that my parents will never allow me. Familiar faces are all around, but I don’t want to recognize their presence. Suddenly, the first bell rings. Nothing appears to change. A few minutes later the same hallways are flooded with teenagers fighting to walk to their class. I learned to move around this and go to my class. I take a deep breath. As I begin to focus on nothing but the repetitive pattern of school for the next 7 hours, my day begins.
          School is a repeating nightmare that never changes. Although the stuff I’m learning is different, everyday feels the exact same. My grades show that I am passing each class with flying colors, but I feel like I’m passing by each class drained of color. Sitting in my first class, time goes slow. Having no work to do makes me feel like I’m wasting my time at school. I search frantically for something I need to finish, submit, tests to study for. I get distracted by the overwhelming fatigue after a sleepless night, this time fatigue wins and I fall asleep. Woken up by the bell, I sluggishly move throughout my day. I come home to see my brother just getting out of bed. His curly hair is all over the place. His brown eyes lock into mine and a joyous grin spreads across his face. He immediately sprints over to ask about my day. I answer with, “It was ok.” He proceeds to bombard me with questions about what I want to do that day. Most of the time the answer he hears is, “homework and practice.” His smile fades as he realizes there is going to be no time to hangout. Following this he goes to take a shower and loudly listen to music. When he gets out of the shower, I am already gone.
          Unlike school, wrestling practice goes by fast. The two hours only feel fast because of the non-stop movement. As I prepare to endure the heat and humidity, I lay down to relax. Sometimes I think, “Why am I doing this?”. Practice starts and we begin to run. Sprinting is the only thing our coach accepts. I’m out of breath. Sweat is dripping down my face. Exhaustion is setting in. My legs feel like jelly. The air is baking me as I take each step. Teammates are slipping in the sweat, deciding whether or not to just leave. Every small break is destroyed by our coach yelling at us to keep moving. Once practice ends, I finally get to eat dinner around 8 pm. I start homework right after, usually finishing around 10 pm. I lay in bed for hours after not being able to sleep, even though my body strives for rest. I only get a few hours of sleep before it’s time for school again.
          Throughout the school year, I set high expectations for myself to meet in order to maintain my grades and continue to play sports. Lying on the couch at home after an exhausting practice is the highlight of my day, but wrestling and football put a toll on my body. Numerous knots cover my back and shoulders. The highlight of my day is ruined with feelings of pain. It hurts to lie down, it hurts to sit up, it hurts to stand, it hurts to walk. The days I feel alright enough to lay down are ended by hours of schoolwork. This cycle puts a lot of weight on me. The only time of the year this stress is taken away from me is in July. No responsibility feels nice. I have just one month of this feeling before the cycle starts again.