The Year I Had Mono

The year I started high school,

I spent every last possible second in bed.

Lights off, door shut, blinds drawn tightly closed.

Showers became monumental obstacles,

prying of crusty sweatshirts and battling matted hair.

School sent a warning letter home after the FirstSecondFifthTwentieth day I called in sick

"But why?" my mother interrogated me daily, pleading with me to come outside.

"You're not acting right. Where has all your life gone? It must be mono. I just can't believe this"

.

"Mrs. Fox I assure you, we would have alerted the community had there been a mono outbreak at the school"

.

"So, who exactly have you been kissing? Is that why your grades are dropping, some boy?"

.

But I'd never gone on a date before, let alone had my first kiss.

I was 14

and had already given up on that kind of happy ending

or any kind of happy. I just wanted the ending

except what would my family think,

of their "perfect little girl"

if she was found in the bathtub with twin red gashes down each arm?

Never. The only solace I could find was tangled beneath sheets

stacks of pillows piled high around me.

I think I hoped they'd topple over,

cave in and suffocate me. How peaceful,

to drift to sleep and never have to awaken.

But mother was relentless, eyes blind to the real cause of my illness

She could shut her eyes as tight as she wished, I didn't blame her

Closing my eyes was the only thing I wanted to do too.

But eventually her cries kept me awake, too much noise in my empty head

So I emerged from my tomb, my mono abruptly cured,

and I learned how to sleep with my eyes wide open