The scowl on Ms. Booth’s face signaled she was in a bad mood. Oblivious, the rowdy backbenchers in homeroom carried on. Ms. Booth began roll call. Meanwhile, the buzzing inside my head steadily grew until my skull filled with TV static. I had barely slept the night before, working on a paper due that day. I sipped coffee from my thermos to wake myself up, thinking about how I had to stop pulling all-nighters. At 16, no one listens to good advice, even their own.
“Nafisa?” called Ms. Booth.
“Here,” I attempted to reply, but nothing came out. My tongue lay heavy like a slug in my mouth, unmoving.
“Nafisa, I’m talking to you,” she said sternly.
I tried to raise my hand to my mouth, but it wouldn’t cooperate either. This is when I realized that
people
liking
life
Medical Gaslighting
