Shoulder pads. Gloves. Helmet. I'm preparing for the first game of the new year, my motion robotic as I gather my football equipment.

Everyone's worried that I won't perform well today, Coach most of all. He said that I've been distracted, that I haven't been acting like myself for almost two weeks now. Two weeks ago was the 19th... Something trembles within me, my hands going rigid and my jaw straining to bite back emotion.

That day is cursed, it is. I hate that day, and I will forever hate it for the rest of my life. And yeah, Coach is right. I haven't been acting like myself. I haven't been as sharp in practice, and I've consumed more alcohol than ever before. My grades are getting worse, and I've had one too many calls to the dean's office.

It's as if an imposter has taken over my body, dragging my bones along the cold pavement. I tell him to stop, to let go of my shackled arms, to set me free, but he doesn't. And I don't think he ever will. Perhaps that imposter is the boy I see in front of me.

His eyes are red-rimmed and lifeless. His hair is a mess on his head, and his mouth constantly remains in a frown. I used to know a boy that looked quite similar to him, but he was happier, more jubilant than this boy could ever be. Yes, this boy is the imposter.

I take a sharp breath, and adjust my stance. Now is not the time to wallow in my misery. Now is not the time to act like a five-year old. The weight of the world is on my shoulders, and I can't succumb to the pressure; I can't. It's not an option for me now, and it never was before.

"You ready?" Jason asks, appearing from the dressing room in full gear. His smile is optimistic, like he genuinely believes we can do this. That gives me at least a little hope.

Aside from him, my entire team is a nervous wreck. Today, we'll be facing our greatest competition, the team we've lost to for three years in a row. They're a tough team, they are, but our team is tougher.

"I'm ready," I say, nodding in affirmation. As ready as I'll ever be.