TW: ALL

Stress. Pressure or tension exerted on a material object. That's my life. All day, everyday. I'm Skylar, but everyone calls me Sky. This is my story.

I wake up everyday, and have a deep feeling. I call it my big bad monster, and all I know is that it makes me feel absolutely horrible with it's comments. I put my clothes on and fret about what my friends might say.I go to my parents, and say good morning. Adding to my already stressful life, I have to make sure they don't notice my struggles. "Sky, look at these grades! All hundreds, and one ninety-nine.", My mom exclaims. I smile, as if proud, but I really felt disgusted for getting that ninety-nine. At school, I see my friends. They all greet me, happily. I smile back, but I know that they don't really want to be friends with me. It makes me feel sick, so I ask my teacher, Ms.Williams, to use the restroom. I vomited, and am finally sincerely happy for the first time that day. For I thought that maybe it will make me thinner.

I return to class to a guest speaker. "I am Taylor, and I'm a psychiatrist. I do therapy sessions with people that feel unhappy. I help them work out their problems, get rid of their bad self image, quit doing bad things, and overall feel good!", She says. I perked up. Maybe this person could help me. Then, the big bad monster over-ruled that thought, with others like 'Don't get therapy, it's for insane people', and, 'Watch your friend's parents keep their kids away from you!' So, I returned to a ghastly state of shame and sadness.

Tears slowly flowed from my eyes, steady rivers on my face. "Sky?", My friend, Alivia, said. Taylor noticed. "Would you like to come with me?", She asked, and handed me a tissue. I felt the big bad monster fizzle as I stood against it's wishes. Taylor took me to secret conference room."You're Skylar, right? Pretty name.", Taylor studied me, "Would you like to tell me what's going on?" I sighed and collected myself. "I can't.", I blurted out. "Why?", Taylor asked. "Therapy is for insane people.", I reasoned. Taylor frowned and took me back to the classroom. "How many of you go to therapy?", Taylor asked my peers. Hands all across the room shot up. I was utterly shocked. "And how many of you think that those who go are not worthy of your friendship?" Silence. I smiled at Taylor and nodded.

The next week, I went to Taylor's office. "Skylar! My sweet star.", She cried. I sat down in the red chair. "Talk to me about what's bothering you.", Taylor said. I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I just stress a lot. Being perfect. I don't think I'm good enough.