At the new school I just want to keep my head down. I am luckily able to move slightly better but I am still exempt from all physical activities. There is still a dam skirt so my legs are in plain view. I try lying this time about how I got my scars, I was in an accident. I don’t tell the details but by talking at least I am not considered mute, I am not some washed out has been that failed either. Oh look at the poor girl who is hurt and mock me why don’t you. I faced the best in the world and still walked away with a medal, I have met people that have redefined the sport I competed in and maybe if I hadn’t gotten seriously injured I would have made that kind of impact. Granted, what kind of people know skateboarders, these days it feels like only video-game nerds. Still, I am in one of those games and got enough money put into a trust fund from all my hard work that I could already think about retiring if I wanted to. I am likely going to retire before the rest of you can even find a job with shitty hours. I might struggle to walk and put weight on my legs, have to rest a lot and even sometimes lose my balance having to do everything I can to catch myself, but I am not some loser that never dared to dream. I dreamed of the stars in my hands and achieved it. I might not be a skater any more but I-

Now I need to rest again…

I take a seat on the stairs unable to keep going. I am so bitter, so angry, and the only way I want to vent my emotions is to skate, the thing I can’t do. I try and just keep my head down, classes are boring, I isolate myself at lunch and in the breaks but at least people can see that I am struggling because I am very injured and not something else. I am not someone worth mocking, why kick someone who is already unable to fight back. I don’t even show any signs of their words hurting me, they don’t know where to stab. They don’t know how to cause me any real pain.

At times it feels like I need something in my life, anything really. The problem is I had that something, it still calls to me, and day after day I dream of it every time I sleep. I had to put away all my personal skater stuff, any of the tapes or magazines that included me are in a box in the corner. They open my wounds and I can start crying whenever I come across them, I was able to do so much, I was so free. At times even my old tapes and mags that don’t include me in them can bring pain and I have to escape it all. I really had nothing else in my life and things like TV are boring. I am not into a lot of music and at times I am just watching a clock counting down the hours, those times mean I am in a very bad place. When anything skating related brings too much pain the clock watching takes over.

Still at least the days are starting to blur, that means they are passing quicker than they used to. Was life always this boring? I keep losing myself to daydreams, back with Scarlet, back on my board and back on a halfpipe or maybe even a mega ramp- more often the halfpipe honestly, I guess the mega ramps still scare me a little. Just a loner, not need to bother me no need to-

“Hey you’re Cilia Roberts right?” a guy asks me. I try to fake a confused look and inside I am screaming. I am going to have to make excuses or deny everything. I am not sure I am really hiding it.

“You know, the skater that got injured a few years ago and dropped out from the competition, specialised in vert,” he adds. Shit, he knows.

“My name is Cilia but I am not a skater sorry,” I try and lie my way out.

“You look just like her and the scars… ah sorry, I will leave you alone,” he walks away with that.

Getting home that day I tell my mother I have been recognised and I am unsure what to do. I tell her everything that happened and ask her for advice. She actually seems not to worry and says to see how it goes. I don’t want to move schools again, I don’t want to have to keep running away from who I was. I tasted silver and now it feels like all I taste is the dirt.

Nothing changes, he watches me at times but I try and ignore it, the painkillers keep being swallowed and my medical appointments show how slow everything really is. If I didn’t walk as much I would likely recover faster but it would also lead to other issues with my muscles. How I wish to catch some air from a ramp, slide down a rail, balance on a lip, and spin till I am not even sure which way around I am…

I don’t get how anyone could quit skating willingly. It was freedom and I am still so bitter that I have lost it. That bitterness at time consumes me, I can actively snap without much provocation. I am worried I am becoming like him, the awful man that was once in my life. I really hate becoming like that, I hate what I am becoming and try to do anything to distract myself. However, there is only so much I can do, only so many appointments I can have with professions and only so many pills I can take to try and keep myself going.