The Hidden Truth

Fear of Pain

In the past of going to different schools, I’ve come to notice that during the first few days the schools always seem to be impossibly hard to navigate through. The halls don’t seem to make sense, the rooms seem foreign, and the map is less than helpful. Even when I am given a tour of the place, do I still get hopelessly lost among the maze of hallways. What is stranger, but still terribly unfair, is how a week later the whole place makes so much sense and I am completely confused on how I got so lost. This temple was no different.

This place was just as grand as the appearance of the outside. The stones were smooth to increase the feeling of peace and calm of the Force. The pillars were tall, round, and mighty like the blade of a lightsaber. The rooms were of different sizes, simple and clean like the mind of a Jedi. The whole place spoke of the meaning of the Jedi. There was an everlasting silence that seemed to be an unspoken agreement among the people. There were species and beings of all ages, but all were respected. The young gave life to the bare walls and the old seeped wisdom into the floors. As one walked, they could feel the vast power and could not help, but to be impressed by the strong impression the place gave.

There was no test to be taken. There was no way for them to know I had been a Jedi for eight years. No one thought, no one looked, and they all assumed I knew nothing. They knew of my character, my personality, but they did not know what I knew. I felt surprised, worried, and suspicion. Perhaps it was the way I was taught in school, in college, in all the classes I took, but I thought they would test me with the Force. I though they would ask me to feel the Force, but they never did.

During my tour of the temple, which went on for many hours to navigate the place, I was explained the rules, which I already knew like I knew how to breathe, and the classes I would be taking. Most of the classes, like meditation, and the Force, would be a review for me, but I did not confide them in this. This would be my secret, my surprise, my way to be known and to be respected. The tour ended with the medical office. I had to be checked out. I was checked for normal sickness, shot record, and anything else wrong with me. The trouble was, I didn’t have any of the shots that most people had when they were three. What was even worse was, I hated shots, more than I hated my father. This hate came from fear, as I learned when I was thirteen. I feared pain, and to cover my fear, I said I hated it. It’s not that I don’t know how to breathe out pain, to accept my natural body’s way of telling me something sharp was entering my skin, it’s just I don’t like pain in the first place.

Why must they always take forever to just poke you painfully with something sharp? Is it because they don’t want to hurt you and they have to go through a mental process? Or, is it because they just want to test my ability to not show fear? If this was a test, I barely missed the passing mark. Sticky, fear smelling sweat, slowly glided down my forehead, soaked my ponytail, made my hands wet, and just made the whole experience worse. My breathing quickened, my body was slightly shaking and I knew I looked paler than a ghost. I couldn’t control this fear. I tried to breathe, I seriously tried to slowly breathe in all my fear and let it go on the way out. I tried to distract my mind, become conscious of my body actions, and strive for Jedi calm, but I knew all I was doing was trying, not doing.

The needle approached me and I jerked back. I spent a full thirty second scolding myself in the sternest way, bullying myself into staying still. The healer, put a hand on my arm, told me to relax, like that was ever going to happen, and pressed the tip of the thin metal rod into my arm before my thoughts could continue. My brain stopped everything as it screamed bloodily hell that there was needle in my arm. I was counting nano seconds as the fluid left the small contain and was pushed into my body. Then, after a lifetime of pure terrifying torture it was done. It seemed that I had spent all my energy in the reaction of all of this. My body slumped on me, refusing to move, my mind just wishing this never happen and more sweat appear. The healer, having very much noted all this, told me it wasn’t that bad. I was fairly close to cursing her out at this point, but anger did not belong here or should have been felt. Rather than get angry at myself to “freaking” out over a small shot, I should have forced myself to move on, but I wasn’t a Jedi in that sense. A short burst of hot steamy temper came for a few moments before the Jedi part of my mind reminded me the people here could feel my emotions. A single, but labored breathe swept that boiling steam away.

My healer reminded me that in a week, another hateful, fear building shot would be needed. I strained to keep a straight, polite face as I thanked her for this reminder. Inwardly, curses filled my mind and dread entered like an evil, powerful drug. The healer notified my tour guide that it would be best if I was walked to my room to rest and let my body deal with the vaccine that was injected into me. Again, into the confusing halls I wondered through, following the invisible wake of the Jedi in front of me. My thoughts wondered to the past events, making me question the reality of me becoming a true Jedi.