It takes a long time till school is back on the table. I am still having to study whenever I can. I have fallen behind enough that I will be repeating a year no matter what, maybe even two, but what I dread the most is the idea of being in a wheelchair in such an environment. Still, there isn’t much choice after my third surgery, the new school year starts and I am right on time to join it. I am given an exemption for the uniform, I am allowed to wear warmer trousers instead of a skirt. It helps a bit to cover my legs, to not show the scars. It feels like I am on enough painkillers to put an elephant to sleep. I already know I need to keep them hidden, I don’t want people to know what I need to just get through the day.

The first day I am already singled out, when asked about what happened to me I am honest, most don’t believe me and they just mock me for trying to be some big shot. I guess someone actually checked to verify my story and found there were actually pictures of me, even pictures of me from a game that semi had my likeness. I learnt that I was an outcast as a kid and that skaters were my community, but here people are just assholes. I am fed up of all the ‘do a kickflip’ comments, I am fed up of all the stares I get for being unable to walk and I am really fed up of the fact that my next surgery date has been decided and I will likely have to repeat another year before this one is even over…

Surgery is a few days after my birthday. It was similar to last time and while I haven’t managed to communicate my needs and thoughts I am learning. I have learnt that I am most likely going to have a hot flush after becoming aware, it is around nine or so uses of the morphine to cause me to vomit. That I am going to have blood on my bandages and that my mother shares a blood type with me and has given me some of her blood, and is without question willing to give me more. School is cancelled for me again but I still fill my time with studying, trying to cut out repeating wherever I can.

My old friends still visit a little but I am struggling to engage with them and honestly considering cutting them off. Every reminder of the past is pain. A pain I can’t endure, I still just wish I was skating, that I was able to hang out at the local skatepark and spend my time on the halfpipe.

Once again doctors use the word ‘hopeful’ and I believe it less than I did before. After enough time they are pushing me into rehab, trying to get me to walk under my own power. It is extremely painful even with all the painkillers I am given. It feels like there is a limit to how much they can give. I struggle with every movement of my leg not managing a step but if I want any chance to skate again I need to walk first. It is the one thing that keeps me going. Soon I have cut off contact with everyone except mum, I just block their numbers, have her not answer the door when they try to visit and after enough months they get the message even if Casper takes the longest with all of his messages on my phone.

I do manage to make progress with walking but it takes a long time and the amount of painkillers I have prescribed to me could easily cause an overdose if I mess anything up. I have considered it at times, but I try and keep strong for mum. It doesn’t help that anti-depressants are also something I am forced to take, and while they don’t feel like they are working much maybe it is just enough to keep the bad thoughts at bay and prevent me doing something stupid.

School is rapidly approaching again, a new school this time and a new year. I can move with a lot of slowness and pain, and I am trying to avoid crouches. The doctors advise me to pace myself and try to walk but uses aids as much as needed. I however have decided I don’t want to use aids as much as possible, even if it is slower and more painful. I need to push my muscles that have weakened. I need to encourage my body to heal by keeping healthy and part of that is physical activity. I don’t just want to just be lifting weights or do annoying arm exercises. I can’t count the amount of times I have tried to suppress the pain only to clench my jaw and catch something drawing blood. Luckily no long term physical harm has been done but I guess every time is a chance something will go wrong.

My first day at the new school I don’t really talk to anyone I don’t have to, the uniform includes a skirt and I am not exempted from them this time. My legs are covered in awful scars and the stares are a nightmare. What person my age has such horrific scars? I feel like most people are more likely to die than have such scars. Most people are disgusted by them. I don’t talk to people so much that some wonder if I am mute. I don’t walk fast enough, that causes people to have other thoughts and the fact I am older than them soon leads people to believe I have a mental disability. They could just look at my legs and see that I am not moving fast because of my injuries. They can look at my face and tell just how much pain I am in and why I am unable and unwilling to talk much as I clench my teeth almost constantly when I walk.

I guess what would be the worst thing is that someone recognised me and I guess I failed to deny it enough, word is out again that I was some ‘wannabe skater’ that failed. Wannabe skater? I touched the stars. I hate how people who don’t understand something just dismiss me as a poser. I have seen posers, beaten them even. I once got to encounter professionals that they would kill to meet and talked to them as equals. I doubt you will ever be able to do the same. I am much more bitter and angry. Soon I just give up and at the end of the first term I transfer to another school, I just need to get through two more terms…