To be so scared, is to be weak.

I am scared to death of Monday.

I have known something wasn't right for a while, but I ignored it. I caused disorder and mayhem in my personal life in some weak effort to distract myself and ignore the signs my body was giving me. I covered it up by trying to stay more active and sleeping more, trying to show my body your okay. Okay. That is what I chanted over and over again in my head to my one, two beat of my shoes on the pavement as I pushed into the second mile.

I am not okay, and I am scared.

Half of me knows what the doctor will say. They will tell me I am depressed and I am not eating enough. I know that, that is just how I am. Part of me knows they will look at my scars and compare them to my chart notes and just write me off as another manic depressive teen...And I can't say that they would be wrong, but I have always been that way.

This feeling is different. Different than the fatigue, different than mono, or depression, or low blood sugar or anything else I have ever been treated for. Something is wrong, and I have to bear this alone.

Always alone.