In the Eyes of a Wallflower

November 27 th               Entry 1 I am Casey McFadden. I don’t really know how keeping a journal works but I guess I will start by introducing myself. I’m 14 years old and live in New York City. It’s my freshman year of high school. Too bad I’m still in a hospital bed working on physical therapy daily so that I can walk, right? Why me? Why must I be invisible? I don’t have any friends. My parents are always busy with work. The only reason I’m still IN this hospital is because they are too busy to take me back and forth for therapy. They have just pawned me off to the nurses here ever since the accident. The accident that broke both of my femurs and cracked my pelvic bone. After a month literally of just laying in a bed in multiple casts, I was finally able to be released but mom and dad were just too busy. Heck they are the reason I even GOT in the accident. If they had been able to come, get me from the school this never would have happened. I wouldn’t have been walking down the sidewalk right as that taxi jumped the curb.  Oh well. I guess that’s what happens when you’re invisible to the world around you. People never notice the girl behind the dark rimmed glasses. I’m not really the girly type so I mostly just wear baggy hoodies and simple jeans all the time. My face and hair are so plain. I don’t stand out. I don’t fit in anywhere. I play sports, I get good grades, I’m not a troublemaker, yet no one even knows I exist. The teachers barely even notice my presence. So, with no friends and an absent family, here I am, sitting in a hospital, writing in a journal that just turned up on my side table. There’s an “M” engraved on the front as if it were meant to be mine. Maybe someone noticed me. Maybe a nurse left me this gift to help me cope since no one comes to visit. I don’t know why this randomly arrived in my room, but I think maybe it will help get my thoughts out. Being invisible, means I don’t have anyone to talk to. I have had a couple nurses that were friendly and would stop by to talk to me in passing. But when you aren’t used to talking it’s hard to make conversation with a stranger. It was nice of them to try, sure. But in truth I am used to being ignored. I have found comfort in the loneliness. Everything goes on around me whether I am noticed or not. So, from a distance I can just enjoy focusing on myself. No need for drama amongst friends, or boyfriends to take up my time. I don’t even have to worry about parental approval of everything I do. It’s not like there’s ever a reason for their attention. I get to live a quiet life among the literal rich and famous. I go to a fancy prep school, Brearley. Well, I will once I get to leave the hospital. I didn’t even get to enjoy the hustle and bustle of being a freshman right out of the gate. No big deal though, I’m sure no one even knows I’m not there. Ok. Well, I guess that will suffice for a first entry in my journal. Time for bed! Zzzzzzzzz                                             Entry 2 I don’t really see a reason to track the dates. It’s just another day in my book, Literally. Hey, I made myself chuckle with that pun. So, any who, another day of therapy. Today the focus is supporting my own body weight on my legs for more than 5 steps. They usually have me use crutches and I have to wear braces for another month. The casts came off last month but since there is a metal rod doing the job that my right femur would normally do, the braces are added support. The left wasn’t broken completely in half, so a couple screws put it back in order. At least this makes the walking practice easier, since I have a side that isn’t as severely damaged. Having a stronger side to lean more weight focus is a little less painful. There’s nothing good on TV today. Only about ten minutes until my therapy session, though. I am wondering why Jason is here. Oh! Jason is a guy from my school. I saw him walk by my room earlier and he seemed really upset. I hope he’s okay. I don’t even know what I would talk about with anyone if I did have friends. Like maybe I would just ramble out all of my thoughts with no rhyme or reason. It isn’t really relevant right now. This paper doesn’t judge me. This paper can hold all of my rambling thoughts. This paper lets me know I’m not alone. It gives me an outlet from the life I know. There comes the nurse for therapy, BRB. -       - - - - - - Ha-ha. I totally just realized I wrote that as if I’m talking to a person. Maybe I can treat this journal as if it is a person that I’m talking to, well, as if YOU are real. Maybe this will in the end give me a sense of how to actually talk to people at least somewhat. Like emails and texting and such. I don’t know, though, anyway… therapy went well. I wasn’t very motivated to do it. it isn’t like I have anyone cheering me on. The nurses and doctors really don’t seem to mind because of the amount of money my parents give this hospital. I’m sure the docs might be a little worried that my dad would use his legal connections to shut them down if they didn’t comply with me staying full time honestly. Whatever the reason may be, I am here so I just have to keep doing the work to get strong enough to get out of here. Entry 20               The end is finally close! About ten more days according to my physical therapist. I’m finally doing well enough that they are letting me walk around the hospital some, without crutches. I won’t lie it hurts, but it’s so much better than just laying in a bed all day. I never would have realized how busy a hospital is if it weren’t for my accident. Walking around beyond my room I see so many people that look like they may never get to leave. No one even notices me walking around. Perks of being a wallflower still. When I don’t have crutches and I am wearing some simple baggy sweats instead of a gown no one here would even know that I’m a patient. So, I blend into the folks and visitors that just walk freely. Passing a few rooms, I have noticed that some people, like me, don’t have many visitors, while others have at least two people with them at all times. It must be nice to have someone caring for you the whole time. I wonder if that is what love really feels like. I passed a supply closet earlier and I’m sure I heard a nurse sobbing. I don’t know what happened, but I feel like she could have used someone to talk to or even just hug her. Too bad I’m not good with people or maybe I could find a way to help. Sometimes I wonder if people just need someone to show that they care. To show you are not alone in the world even when you feel that way. Like me getting this journal… it was a random gift that just showed up and gave me a chance to express my thoughts when no one else was here to listen. For the past month I have been writing daily and honestly it keeps my mind at ease to let my thoughts out on the paper. I might walk down to the gift shop and see if I can find something small to make that nurse feel better. She did walk by later and I saw she was no longer wearing her ring. Maybe her fiancé broke up with her? Yea I think I am going to get her a card and some flowers. That kind of thing always cheers people up. The number of bouquets I have seen people smiling at in their rooms tells me that this could be perfect.               Entry 21                             Today I walked by the nurse’s station and left a bouquet of white and red roses with a card on them. The card reads: You are perfect and always loved as long as you can accept loving yourself. No one can destroy you because you control your own future. -* After finishing my walk, I came back to my room to lay down. The gift shop was far enough away that it really wore me out and I needed some medicine and sleep. When I woke up, I heard the nurse asking around for where the flowers came from, but nobody even noticed me dropping them off. I saw her smile brightly as she walked past my room to ask someone else about the bouquet and it seemed as if she had totally forgotten the broken feeling inside herself. It was nice to see her smile. To know that I was able to help even some small way to make her feel less alone. I might have to try this sort of thing more often. Helping from a distance feels good. And doing it this way keeps me from any sort of spotlight. This could be fun.                              Entry 25               Only a few more days until I am home bound. The last few days have been nice. Leaving gifts here and there for some of the lonelier people. So, I have been staying busy at least. My long distance is getting way better. I don’t even have much of a limp at this point. The pain is the only thing that slows me down, but the doctors said today that if they hadn’t known I was in the accident you would never even be able to tell at this point in my recovery. It feels good to know I’m about to go back to real life. Even if my life kind of sucks. Sure, we have money. My parents are even famous in upstate New York, but I am still just a nobody. My mom is an amazing fashion designer and though I do love a lot of her designs I just don’t think I could ever pull them off. She tells me all the time how I could be such a beauty if I would just try harder, but to be honest why should I care to impress anyone?               My dad is a very well-known criminal lawyer. He owns his own firm to be exact. “Richard McFadden, Criminal law” is on billboards and busses and even park benches all over the city. He has helped put away some big criminals in the area and though it seems that would cause enemies, he has more respect in the community than most. Growing up I’d go to his office to spend time with him. It was always really exciting to see the way that a case works. Daddy is a good guy with a good heart, and he is almost a superhero, working hard to rid our world of crime. Sure, every kid views their parent as a hero, but he is more a hero to the people than he is to me. He tries to come to sporting events and things, but it always seems like he disappears halfway through on the phone. It’s fine though, I know his work is important. He gives me my space and allows me to just be me with no judgement. I don’t get much recognition either, but I do know he is proud of me by the way he looks at me with tender kindness that most others don’t ever see.               I never really spend much time with mum. She is always traveling and with school I can’t be flying off to Milan the way she does. She loves me in her own way though. Even if she wants me to be more out of the box and “embrace who we are” as she says, she still doesn’t push me too hard to be uncomfortable.               To be truthful, I have no clue how such an invisible, self-conscious, shy, boring character like myself was born of my parents. Mom talks about how when I was three, I would put on her dresses and shoes and parade around the house but if there was a knock on the door, I would disappear so quick that I’d leave the attire behind. As I grew, the desire to dress up shrank as the fear of being noticed grew. Oh well. that’s enough rambling for today.