Things Are Breaking

My life was certainly interesting up to this point. I had gone on several different adventures with my friends. I was known as a hero and was respected by several people in different worlds. Things were a bit different back home, though. A lot of people didn't even know what I was up to. They weren't even aware that shit was going down in other worlds! They all seem to have forgotten about weird things that happened in our own world.

My parents were incredibly hard on me. Having to balance school and saving worlds isn't exactly an easy thing to do. The worst part was that no matter how much effort I put into anything, it was never good enough. My parents were never satisfied. It pissed me off. To make things worse, I felt like people couldn't really understand my pain. I felt isolated from everyone. I felt like I was on my own.

It's a pretty strange feeling to have. You have friends. You know you have friends. However, you can't shake this strange feeling. You feel like you're all by yourself, no matter how many people are there. It's a strange feeling I've never understood. Because of it, I would find myself wandering off on my own, hands in my pockets, walking through the hallways during lunch. I would barely talk to anybody.

I know I worried Jason, though. Throughout my life, their were several different people I called my best friend at different points in time. Jason happened to be one of them. In elementary school, when I reached the end, I had a different best friend than who I started with. I also had several different best friends at different points in middle school. It's kind of ironic that my first friends were girls, since most of my life I've had male friends.

High school would end up continuing the trend, although not as quickly. Near the beginning of my freshman year, I met Jason, who I had a few classes with: Biology, English, and a computer class. In the computer class, he ended up sitting next to me the first couple of days. We had these books we were supposed to follow instructions with, and I pretty much every time got a book for him so he wouldn't have to.

This was back when being nice actually felt… nice and not forced. One day, he actually started talking to me and we learned each other's names. I learned a bit about his history with other schools, too. It wasn't long before we started sitting next to each other in other classes. He'd get less work done than I would in Biology, but I believe we both worked as hard as we could in English… most of the time.

Out of all the best friends I've ever had, Jason was one of the most interesting. While there were a lot of differences between us, such as most video games we preferred to play, we were able to get along through our actually common interests. He later introduced me to a guy named Harold, who was one of my friends for some time.

Harold was kind of the same case as Jason, having a lot of differences and all that, but we managed to make it work. The next year of high school, I continued to talk to them even though I did not have any classes with them. Things were fine, or at least I thought they were. This was when I started to worry.

I realized how there were multiple people I had considered to be my best friends in my life and they were gone. I was starting to worry that I would end up losing more. Well, I was kind of right. A year later, I started having a lot issues in my life. Both with "friends" and my family.

I was in a lot of pain emotionally, and Harold was a bit of a jerk during that time. After a while, I got over his actions, and he even apologized, but now, we're sort of distant. Hell, this was the year I started questioning the relationships I had with other people. My family was no help during this time and only contributed to making me feel worse.

I felt very insignificant. I felt like nobody gave a damn. Like I said earlier, I spent a decent amount of time by myself. Eventually, I actually talked to Jason about my problems and he listened. Of course, I would leave some details out, because I only open up so much. During those days, when I had those feelings, I ended up dealing with the worst physical pain I've gone through so far.

One day, I was in the middle of a sport in P.E. and was running at a decent speed. My ears were filled with noise from everyone's feet making contact with the ground. My foot was out, ready to kick a ball, but instead, I ended up pushing myself into a hard white wall. The next thing I knew, I was screaming, and I fell to the hard gym floor.

Only one thing was on my mind: pain. I was eventually taken out of class in a wheelchair. My dad ended up picking me up from school. I was not prepared for the long rides in his dark blue van. Every time we reached a turn or a bump, I yelled out in pain. By the time we were finally at a hospital, tears were slowly sliding down my face.

Getting out of the van was a nightmare, but before I knew it, I was in another wheelchair. My dad checked me in and we waited. My name wasn't called until after my dad left to use the restroom. I ended up spending my afternoon lying down and watching T.V. after my arm got x-rayed. My dad also got to hear more words come out of my mouth than he usually does. I tried to get my mind off the pain while I was in the unfamiliar room, but I could not.

The next day, I would have surgery for my arm because I had broken it really badly in at least a few spots. Most of my weekend was lying in bed, watching T.V., and not really being able to sleep at all during my stay. I kind of liked it though, because for once, I was in a peaceful environment. My family visited the night after the surgery, but I really preferred my time alone.

I told them all to go home and that I would be fine without them. During these nights, nurses came and went, so I never bothered with trying to remember any of their names. When I was finally able to go home, my usual activities were the same as they were in the hospital. After some time, I didn't need to wear a sling anymore – at least not all the time. I needed to wear it when walking through the halls at school. Anyways, after I stopped wearing it regularly, I saw something that I immediately thought was disgusting – a scar that extends from my right elbow to near my shoulder.

I felt like if I did not look away soon enough, I would end up flooding a room with vomit. Getting through school while being unable to really use my right arm was even more challenging for me. My handwriting looked like it belonged to a small child! Because of my situation, I was allowed extra time on assignments, since I was right-handed and that hand was on the arm that I broke.

While I was showing up in this condition, there were several people coming up to me asking how I was feeling and how my arm was. After a while, it seemed as if less people cared, before and after I stopped wearing my sling. Everything seemed like it went back to normal – I felt insignificant again, and my other issues returned. However, Jason was the one that listened to me during that time.

The whole time, there was at least one person who genuinely cared. It just took me a while to realize that. After several conversations with Jason, I got over several of the things that were bothering me, but a few still remained, and they likely will not vanish anytime soon. Unfortunately, I ended up seeing less and less of Jason and don't really talk to most of the friends I had a few years ago, so at school, I have to fight my own battles now.

It was during the summer when I found out we would no longer be going to the same school. It was also the last I saw of him for a while. Since then, we didn't really contact each other much. Fortunately, I've managed to continue living through school. I feel dead and alive at the same time. No matter what happens, the future looks far from perfect, but hopefully not too terrible either. I'm tired of starting over, but I'll probably just have to continue to do so.