Something's in there. Something’s not right. But what? That I don’t know.
It crept up on me, like a tiger waiting to pounce on its unsuspecting prey, hidden under layers of shrubbery. Then with claws unsheathed, it attacked me.
At first I ignored it. I mean, we all get pain. Everyone always has something that hurts. So I didn’t think much of it.

I’ll wake up fine tomorrow. I told myself confidently, and went to bed.
Then I woke up the next day, got up and- Ow, oh my god. The agony.
It’ll go away.
It didn’t.
It’s nothing.
It was certainly something.
Just don’t think about it. At first that was attainable. Well, sort of. But there was a point where the pain was no longer ignorable. Pushing it to the side became harder and harder, until I just couldn’t push it any longer. That was when fear set it. The what ifs and oh gods came rolling in, first a drizzle, then a monsoon. I got caught in the tide.
The doctor can fix it. Blood tests. X rays. Questions. Examinations. Confusion.
I am referred to another doctor. Same deal.
We will find it and treat it. The optimistic MD’s day. It’ll just take time.
We might never know. Say the painfully honest ones.
Tears. Helplessness. Why me? It’s not fair. Everyone else is normal. Why can’t I be like them?
I look at the streets. People walking, running, laughing, jumping. Their bodies don’t hold them back. Or so it seems. I look fine on the outside. The inside’s a different story though. There’s pain. There’s suffering. There’s fear.
I wonder how many sick, suffering people look at me- everything great on the outside- and wish everything in their life was as good as mine.