Don’t Freak Out, I Tell Myself (pt.1)


When I was in the tenth grade I thought I had a blood clot in my arm. I remember laying in bed fighting the urge to sleep, tracking how much the clot moved each minute. “It would eventually make it’s way to my heart, and I’ll die,” I thought. “Right here in my bed. This is my last night alive so might as well stay awake.” I rubbed my arm and held my breath, thinking I might be able to hear it move. No. Nothing. A blood clot, I never thought It would end like this. I guess if I’m still alive when the sun comes up I’ll go to the doctor. Probably have to miss school as well. How long do blood clots usually take to travel to the heart? A hour? A month? How did I even get this thing in the first place? Hereditary probably. Damn. “Watch over me God and take care of my sister,” I said and went to sleep.

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