Sarah Lundeen

Sick, Kid

Convincing yourself that you are going to die before the age of twenty-one is an unending nightmare. What’s worse is having no idea why. I played this game night after night in my room, breaking out into a cold sweat and wondering what everyone will do without me one day. I looked at my cat and wondered if he’d miss me as I laid in bed for the third day in a row, two days away from receiving a threatening letter from the school board that I may have to repeat ninth grade due to poor attendance. We get these every year, my mother tells me not to worry and tosses them into the trash while rolling her eyes. But telling me not to worry was as useless as the letters themselves.