I have Scarlet Fever. Look it up. It's still around. Basically, it's strep throat accompanied by a rash, which in my case, is a small, hardly noticeable facial rash on my left cheek. This morning, I woke up at 2:30 am. I was being jerked awake by a sharp pain in my throat every time I swallowed, approximately every three minutes. I finally gave up on sleeping, and walked around the house until 4:30, when I was finally tired enough to sleep through the pain. I awoke again at 9:00. The pain was again too unbearable to continue sleeping. I went downstairs and felt compelled to take a bubble bath, though I didn't really want to. I did anyway, for about twenty minutes. I dressed in pajamas and moped around the house, looking for something to occupy my mind. I must have watched The Car Show three or four times before I went on the computer to check my email over and over again. At 1, I got dressed for my doctor's appointment. At 1:30, I left for the doctor, who prescribed these wonderful little antibiotic pills whose side effects include, but are not limited to, nausea and vomiting (what do you know, both symptoms of strep), lower abdominal pain (another symptom of strep), headaches, and diarrhea (yes, and yes.) However, the most ironic side effect? Irritation of throat. At 2:18, I told the doctor I had to go, and ran out of his office. At 2:22, we left for the high school. I made it there at exactly 2:25, and ran inside. I got on the bus, forged a permission slip, and found a seat, all the while feeling terribly physically ill. I'd decided it would be worth the arousal of my weakened immune system to assist my team in a meeting of the minds. Who knew, perhaps I could be of some assistance to my team. We arrived at the school, and after much studying, and even more waiting, the first varsity match began. I was aware that I would not be starting this time, as I had last time. I watched my teammates, and admitted that I would have known close to no answers in the first round. Second round: substitutes. Katya and I weren't chosen, but that was okay, because we had another game to play later. I was, however, slightly perturbed that I had known many of the answers this round, but couldn't answer. Later came: second game. Starters were the same. I began to feel my medicine wear off. Unbearable throat pain. I tried to contain my reactions. I was sick, but especially eager. I couldn't wait to go in. I was ready. Second round: substitutes. One, Katya. Only one? I was still eager, but eager for nothing. Our team won, and that was great, but it was over. I had made this difficult trip in vain, and I felt sicker than ever. I regretted everything. Afterward, team captain Alex offered his condolences, and offered to talk to the coaches. I told him not to. They did this for a reason. It was now obvious that in their eyes, I was incapable of bringing any aid to the team. Clearly, I should have stayed home today. The bus ride home was otherworldly. My music was blasted all the way, and I had blocked out the world around me. It seemed like the obvious thing to do. Had I spoken to anyone, every situation would have only been made worse. So I ignored everyone. Rude? Of course it was. Necessary? In my opinion, absolutely. I needed time alone, even if I couldn't physically be alone. Could a bystander have reason to be upset? Reason enough, I suppose, if perhaps humans weren't in fact born with the distinct need to be confined from other people every so often. But they are. And I did. I extend my apologies to anyone who may have been offended by my silence, but in all sincerity, there was nothing more necessary for me at the time. I couldn't hear anyone around me, and that's how I wanted it. Asking to be left alone in a time of emotional and physical despondency seems quite reasonable to me. Time alone is something I have desperately been craving for nearly half a year. In fact, I can honestly say that I currently know nothing of myself or my own tendencies anymore. I have no idea what I'm good or bad at, like or dislike, or what others think of me. I don't even know what kind of music I like anymore. Like an old friend you've gradually lost contact with over time, I've completely forgotten who I am. Over the past year, I've lost friends and made enemies for the first time in my life. That's not who I am. I don't create, or even participate in such situations. But lately, I have been. Maybe I've been acting cocky. Perhaps too lazy to do nice things for people, like I used to. I don't know, because I haven't been myself lately. All I know is that I'm not this person, and I don't know why I've been acting this way. I'm not Ashley Carey, the girl who insults or chastises people, or does something she knows is wrong for her own personal enjoyment. I'm not the girl who treats people unkindly for little or no reason, or who ignores people she doesn't think have anything important enough to say, or who gets offended and lashes out about stupid little jokes. Or who does incredibly rude things so she won't have to face confrontation. That's not who I am, and I don't know how I became this way. I'm Ashley Carey, 80% friendly class clown, who likes making a fool out of herself just to make people laugh. I sincerely apologize to everyone and anyone I have insulted or hurt, even a little bit, in the past. Anyone with whom I've been on unfriendly grounds with. This apology includes, but is not limited to, the following people: To -Joseph Stark, for needlessly insulting you and your driving capabilities, completely unprecedented, and for ignoring you many times over aim. -Earl Bellinger, for all the emotional pain, suffering, and confusion I've ever put you through. It was my fault. Don't argue. -Heather Monge, for leaving your birthday party early with friends without even having the decency to let you know I was going. -Katie Sprouse and Matt Kryzak, for abandoning you the day I quit band, without even telling either of you. -Rachel Adams -Rich Sweet -Carlos Izquierdo -Erick Romero -Dom Dickerson and anyone else I've ever made feel bad in the past, for whatever reason. I'm sorry. I really don't know what I was thinking, but that's not how I am. In eighth grade, my home and careers teacher told my mother that I had a "good moral compass." I suppose I kept it for a few years after that, but it just seemed to deteriorate this year. I hope I can become a better person, now that I've realized what's wrong with me. Now, please excuse me as I attempt to sort things out.