I promise, this isn't a dream.

It’s weird, what a few weeks can do to you.

I came to my new home out of place and awkward, hiding from myself and afraid to expose who I really was to the people around me. I’d been gripped by unknowns for such a long time, an uneasy feeling that threatened to drive me crazy. I’d be terrified of falling asleep at night; afraid of the nightmares I was sure to have. I was frightened to wake knowing that I’d have to face my biggest fear in the morning. I’d look in the mirror, but do nothing. It’s a subtle thing, but I was able to tell when I really was doing terribly; I wouldn’t do my makeup when I felt ugly, thinking it would only make me look worse. I’d wear baggy clothes for comfort; losing my figure in the process. I’d walk to the bus stop with my head down, knowing that if I would have gotten a job and a car, I wouldn’t have to. I’d walk the halls alone, staring at my feet in order to avoid curious and piercing glances. I shut myself off from everything. I taught myself how to fade into a hypnotized state of mind, so that everything seemed to fly by, while I sat in autopilot. Then I’d come home, attempt to talk to or see people I miss, then go to bed as they did, sometimes at midnight, only so I could cling onto their subtle comfort.

But something changed.

I wake up with an instantaneous smile carved on my face, genuine and pleasing. I make sure to get up a little earlier so that I can put on enough makeup to highlight the color of my eyes, the sparkle within them returning, and then grab my backpack and race to catch the bus. I walk in the halls alone at first, but eventually a hand will catch mine and we’ll wander aimlessly, just biding time and getting lost in the comfort of each other’s presence. I’ll pay attention in every class, but get anxious near the end to catch a friend, so that I can laugh at newly formed memories and exchange inside jokes. I feel like my class I have in the middle of the day is like family; I’ve become accepted and I adore each and every one of my classmates. After school, I have to stay and practice, rehearse; but that’s fine… it’s actually the part of the day I look forward to most. I march down the halls with a new friend, and we laugh as a freshman proceeds to interrogate us in hopes of finding food. When we’re allowed to be ourselves and the lights go dim, I feel a pair of arms wrap around me, warm and protecting. I can’t even describe that feeling.

Perhaps this is my payback for all of those “broken memories.” When I feel the pull of depression or the weight of the unknown, I tend to block out all information around me in hopes of numbing the pain.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.
I think… I think that I’m going to be okay.