We All Fall Down

by Natalie D. Richards

It’s hard to say never to the boy who doesn’t eat, but throws away my lunch trash. To the one who hates TV, but binge-watches anime with me.

Sure, now it’s okay. Anxiety is handy if it’ll keep your only daughter close to home.

“No, I’m not on meth. I’m—” Actually, what I’m on is methylamphetamine, which is definitely in the meth family but also prescribed and completely different,

We’re both tainted water, but Theo’s bubbles up on the surface like an oil spill. Mine is invisible. Arsenic hiding in plain sight. I’ll never get fired. I’ll never get in a fistfight. When you stand me next to Theo, I’m the picture of mental health and stability. I’m not better than him, but I know I look like I am.

I’m not anxious in the amusing, manic way everyone else is. I’m a basket case. Does it show?

But it’s not just me holding on—it’s both of us. All wrapped up in who we were and what we did, but there’s no controlling what happens next. All we control is how we deal with it.