My emotional anguish has become my physical pain. Am I imagining these physical symptoms I am having? Am I causing these symptoms? How do I get rid of them? How do I make others believe they really do exist?
             On Friday night after the Knicks vs. Nets basketball game in Madison Square Garden, I was sitting next to my boyfriend on the L train staring into thin air. He was talking to me. I wasn't listening. I managed to tune him out completely. I was looking at all the people on the train trying to figure out what their stories were. I wondered if some of them were truly as happy as they looked and if others were truly as depressed as they looked. Then I became very aware of myself and that I could be being examined as I was examining them. I tried to imagine what my face looked like at that very moment. As I locked eyes with the woman sitting across from me, I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. I became very self-conscious. I fidgeted. I was nervous. I looked at Jay and asked him how many stops we had left before we could disembark this wretched train. This train was making me think of myself and who I was. My face began to redden. My hair began to stick to t!
             he back of my neck. My thin leather jacket was unbearably hot. I couldn't take it anymore. I took my cell phone out of my bag and realized I don't get any service on the subway. The display on the phone said I had three messages. Anxiety filled my body. I began to shake my leg and twirl my hair with my finger. I couldn't wait to get off that train to listen to my messages. I knew one of them was from my dad. His number was the last call I received according to the trustworthy display on my telephone. I stood up three stops before ours and waited impatiently for the train to stop on Bushwick Avenue. I ran up the stairs of the subway forgetting Jay was with me. The moment I reached the top I dialed my voice mail. I just...