I'd been at the Disney Channel games, participating amiably with all the other contestants, having fun as usual. Until I fell to the ground, unconcious, and blood sugar levels dangerously high. After waking up in a hospital bed, back aching, I was informed of what I now despised.

I thought I was dirty, unclean; an impediment that somehow I deserved; a punishment to destroy all I'd worked for. I had sat there, head in my hands, sobbing hysterically as my two sisters and mother sat there, hearts breaking for me. I wasn't seeking pity, from anyone - it only made it worse. I felt alone, speechless, and beaten.

For once in my life, things weren't going exactly as planned, not like the appearances and concerts that had been penned neatly into my mother's tightly bound little leather planner. I felt as though now I had stopped waiting in line, and was on a rollercoaster that I couldn't see the drop off, only the climb.

And I was terrified that perhaps there wouldn't be a drop off - only the rushing and tumbling down in to the water below, to sink and drown helplessly.

Nick and I had never been close, only said less than two sentences to each other, even on the Camp Rock set. He wasn't super friendly to me, and I was never truly super friendly to him, I must admit. Joe and I were closer - he was like a brother I'd never had, only fantasized about. But I'd always had a feeling for Nick - like if I spoke more than one sentence to him, my throat would close up and I'd embarrass myself deeply and he'd hate me. I was nervous, anxious around him, afraid of humiliaton. I never understood why, really, except that I knew that I liked him. Beyond anyone I'd ever set my eye on before. Only because I knew he didn't like me back.

But when I heard I had diabetes, I knew I had to turn to him. But that started a whirlwind of events I'm slightly ashamed, and yet satasfied, to spill to you.

My heart raced as I fumbled through the contacts list on my phone, searching - K,L,M, N - finally, N.

Nick.

Taking a deep, rattling breath, I pressed TALK.

Ring, ring, ring. Breath, Demi, breath. Ring, ring, ring.

"Hello?"

A gentle, smooth voice glided over the phone, sending the most unreal chills down my spine - chills of heartache.

"Hey, Nick?"

My own voice came out taut, restrained, anxious.

"Yeah, Demi? What is it, I'm kind of busy -"

"I have diabetes."

Silence. Dreadful, agonizing silence -

"Really?"

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see it.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

I shuddered, then rolled my eyes. Oh?

"So, is there any way we could, you know, talk or something - "

"Maybe later, I'm in the middle of something, I could call you back -"

"Nah, I'll do it -"

"No, it's fine, Demi -"

"No, really, Nick - "

"Fine, whatever. Just call me later, okay?"

Click.

Why was it whenever I tried to talk to him, he treated me like I was younger, inexperienced, afraid?

Maybe because I was one of those things.

Afraid. Afraid beyond compare.