Page 81 of Poison Aches

“I’ve barely recovered from all that smoke I suffered from my finals. Let’s not even mention all the hours I’ve put in volunteering and being nice to my freaking professors and advisors just so they can write me a pretty recommendation letter!” I huff, this time it’s not dramatic at all. The stress I’ve been under in these last four years has been way too much. “I’ve put in major hours on all my AP classes in both high school and college, but I still feel like I know nothing! The past four years of college have all blown smoke in my ass and now all I can think is how much I might just fucking fail.”

It's all true. None of it is exaggerated. It’s just that I did all that, and still failed.

Another strike to my heart…

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, babe,” Astraea says. “Don’t you think you’ve been putting a lot of pressure on yourself?”

Her voice is gentle, soft even, but to me it sounds like she’s telling me I’m overreacting.

“Astraea, you know me. I’m lazy to my core. If I don’t apply the pressure, I’ll regret not having achieved this one dream I’ve had.” Which so happens to be the only thing in my life I have control over. “I just feel like I’ve put in a ton of work already, but since effortdoesn’tactually equal intelligence, it’s all pointless to be laid-back. The esteemed renowned Doctor Christina Yang proved that.”

“Dr. Christina Yang was a truly gifted surgeon, but she was also fictional, Ivy!”

“How dare you!” I gasp dramatically. “Fictional or not, Meredith Grey and Christina Yang are probably the sole reason why thousands of girls across the world have their heads stuck in medical journals right this instant. I should be too, but instead you dragged me to your house on a school night for socializing!”

She throws her head back and laughs.

“You’re not allowed to laugh!” I pout. “I need to get in! But at this rate, I’m surprised they didn’t ask me to deliver my fucking organs on a silver platter before it was enough to be accepted for med school.”

I try to hold back, but I can hear the pain in my own voice.

“And let’s not forget, some of this exhaustion is all your fault!” I glare at her.

“My fault?”

“Yes! You dragged me around town these past three weeks while I’ve been trying to get things ready and you didn’t even give me a break!”

“Hey, you volunteered!”

“I thought I was helping you set up my party! How the hell was I supposed to know that I was volunteering to be a guinea pig for someone else’s wedding?”

To that, Astraea throws her head back and laughs because it’s true.

Up until yesterday, I’ve been the training mannequin for dresses, and even the bride’s wedding gown! “Don’t even get me started with all that taffy yellow dresses. And the way those ladies were fussing around me, adjusting and pricking me with pins.”

At this, Astraea laughs even harder. “OMG, I remember that yellow dress! You looked like the sewing machine barfed all over you!”

“Oh gee… I’m glad your mind has a memory that will tickle you to the end of your days!”

The little shit even took a video and sent it to everyone.

“I’m pretty sure Noah posted it on his TikTok with the caption, Dr. Fabric!” Astraea says, with literal tears in her eyes.

“That jerk,” I grumble.

“Okay, deep breaths,” Astraea smiles. “If you feel it’s too much, then there’s no need to hold?—”

“Raea, I love you, I really do, but don’t start shrinking me right now.”

I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown induced by not just my academic stress but also the impending shit I’m about to do, so I don’t need to be told that I’monone…

“Is that why you’re reading that poem?” she asks softly.

I look down at the iPad in my hands.

Fuck, she saw it! I thought I was being very discreet, but sure enough…

“If you’re trying to get your mind off things, that shit should do it just fine because damn, that poem is both lethal and so damn sad at the same time.” She eyes me carefully. “I can’t handle it myself.”

---