I was experiencing a particularly difficult day in both jealousy and scrupulosity at church. Everything seemed to weigh me down. My mind couldn't stop whirling with thoughts of my inferiority, both social and spiritual. Nothing could be done to improve my mood.
I was walking out to sit by myself in the car when the family friend I've mentioned before (the one who had gone through something similar with his brother) caught my arm, gave me a hug, and asked if I was really okay.
What could I say? I could already feel emotions welling up within me, in the form of tears. I hesitated, not wanting to lie but also not wanting to appear weak. Finally, I managed a most unconvincing "Yeah."
"Cassandra, I'm here to talk if you need it. I mean it."
Ah, who was I to ask for help? Who was I to deserve attention? I made up some paltry excuse and went to my car, where I sat and wallowed in self-pity. No, I was not really okay. I was dying inside. And hardly a soul in the world seemed to care.
It was almost all in my mind, but it seemed so real at the time.