Adjusting:

This is what I do, this is what they do, this is what we do. I go to school, they go to school, we go to school. I think this is how it started.

I wear black lace up flats from Forever 21, they make fun of me. I throw those shoes away and never wear them again. I don’t question.

I wonder which high school I want to go to, they say, “But don’t you want to graduate with all of your friends?” and I say, “Yes,” and so now I go to their high school. I won’t question anymore.

I find some new friends at school, and soon we are all friends. I hate Drake, they like Drake, we like Drake. I hate skinny jeans, they like skinny jeans, we like skinny jeans. I love sleep, they like parties, we go out. I like her, they talk shit on her, we hate her. We don't like her, they laugh with her, she turns around and they laugh at her. I’m confused.

I ask one of them how her day was and she talks about herself, herself, herself. I listen. We all listen to obsess about herself. She doesn’t ask me how my day was, they don’t ask my how my day was, and so I don’t wonder how my day was. I don’t wonder how my days are becoming because I’m only listening to her.

I go to their high school, I listen to Drake, I wear skinny jeans, I talk shit, I listen to her, I feel like exploding. I feel like exploding out of the smooth, perfectly plastic skin that has grown over my face and body, but all that reaches the surface is a fake smile. They are content so I am content. Feeling is forgotten.

I forget how to listen to music, because I can only hear her. I listen to them, because everything else has become silent. I don’t talk, I listen. I don't talk because we aren’t really talking. We merely make noises that don’t matter. Nothing matters because we don't talk about anything, so anything is nothing to us. I guess I’m talking, yet I’m silent.

This cycle continues. I have seen them, especially her, everyday at school, for the past year, and have turned out fine, so why would I question what I’m doing, what we are doing? I see her everyday, so I can’t ask the simple question, “Why?” Why am I doing what I’m doing?

I go to school on Thursday,  but she isn’t there. I go to school, and life goes on. I go to school on Friday, she’s still not there, I still go to school and life continues to go on...without her. I don’t question where she is because I’m not supposed to question, and I don’t when I’m around her. But she is not here today, and I still don’t question why.

Instead, I start to question why I’m not wondering where she is. I’ve spent almost everyday of my life for the past year side by side with her, and I don’t really seem to care that she isn't here. Shouldn’t I care where my “best friend” is? I’ve spent every moment following her, shouldn’t I be lost by now without her? But I look down and see my two feet walking myself to 7th period, leading me to where I’m going, and somehow I end up ok.

I’m ok.

She’s not here and I’m ok. She’s not here so I can ask “Why?” Why, Why, Why. Why did I let this happen to me, why have I been this way for so long? I can ask “Who?” Who, Who, Who. Who am I when she’s not here, who am I when nobody is here?

At the pit of these questions, something simple cracks the surface of the person I have become; a smile of certainty that arose from a two letter answer...me.

Turns out she broke her leg. Two days, that’s all she needed before coming back to school.

Two days, that’s all it took.

And this is how it truly started.  

On Monday I’m walking and she’s limping on crutches. I’m walking, she’s limping, I’m running. She can’t run because she broke her leg. So I’m running, I’m running, I’m running. And she’s limping. I can’t turn around when she's yelling at me “Stop!” because I’m too far gone to hear her. I'm running far, far away, some place where crutches can’t get her.

And as I begin running, I’m screaming. I’m screaming like I’ve never opened my mouth and screamed before. And they watch. They watch me run, they watch me scream, and some of them start screaming too. Except these are people who I have never seen before. Their legs start mimicking mine and we are running together, making noise and causing chaos. None of this matters, yet we are screaming like we have a  purpose, and running to get there. But those with broken legs, stuck on crutches, uncomfortable in their skinny jeans, who talk about themselves, can't move and can’t get to where I’m going.

But it doesn’t matter anymore because this is what the people behind me do, this is what the people next to me do, yet this is what I’m doing. I’m running, I’m screaming, it doesn’t matter because I’m doing what I’m doing now, unlike ever before. I’m doing what I want, unlike ever before.