Satvika Madadi

Mrs. Gardner
English 0
13 January 2015
The Battle of the Bones

The deafening sound of the school bell vibrated through my whole body as I left my math
class with only one question in mind: how did I get 100 percent on that pop quiz? I hadnt
prepared, I hadnt studied, I hadnt even looked at the work since last class. All I had heard was
the endless drone of my teacher talking about quadratic formulas and whatnot. Then I thought:
how did my brain understand the topic when I myself hadnt? The obvious answer was through
my ears, home to the smallest bones in the human body. How could something so small,
support all the knowledge, all the horrific news, and all the anguish that one dreads to
recognize?
My obsession with the skeletal system began after learning about a TV series called Bones. It
portrays bones as logical, truthful, and factual, ideals that humans dont possess. Though we
choose not to accept it, we dont always have all the answers. As humans, we are compelled to
satisfy our desires, but looking at our life as a whole, the logical way is usually the best way to
achieve a better future.
When I was younger, I was carefree. I never looked before I jumped. I had bones of
steel. I didnt care if I got hurt, and when I did, I cried, but moments later I picked myself up
again. However, as I grew older, I saw hurt as vulnerability and a sign of weakness and failure,
so I put up defenses to protect myself, just as the skeletal system protects the organs within.
During the transition to my teenage years, I became more careful not to hurt my bones, not to
hurt myself, for if I did, I would have a hole in my defenses and I would become more exposed. I

despised any imperfections and anything abnormal to my daily routine for I wouldnt know how
to handle these unusual issues, and for that reason, I was apprehensive of attacking my
problems headfirst.
Then came the incredibly addicting tangle with my bones. Since I was little, I couldnt
stop creating an explosion that would make my hands tingle with delight. Countless times my
parents have said, Dont crack your knuckles, youll get arthritis.
I declared, Once I start, I dont think Ill ever be able to stop. This is true, for once a habit takes
control of me, I find it hard to eliminate.
Since then, I have been spreading the joy throughout my body to places I didnt even
know could crack: my hips, elbows, knees, toes, wrists, back, and even my neck. I feel like Im
disfiguring my joints and sending them onto a path that isnt right for them. I crack my knuckles,
worried that Im forcing myself into a future Im not ready for.
I find it incredibly difficult to fix the flaws I know I have, so I approach them like I
approach all of lifes difficulties: I take it one step at a time. Like a bone, I slowly shave off the
layer of myself that is keeping me from blooming, and grow a new layer that functions better
than ever.
I used to think that people only had one layer, that people were either black or white, but
I now realize that there are several layers to a person: the hard, outer shell, the versatile
conscience, and the fragile, sensitive side. The hard, outer shell is the facade one puts up to
make it seem like no one can bother them. The conscientious side is the part that decides right
from wrong, the side that makes all the tough decisions, the side that people can exploit enough
to make ones head burst. The vulnerable side is where one locks up their feelings. Its the side
of the person that one wont show because they are afraid others will come to know of their
weaknesses.
How do people battle through the obstacles life throws at us. The answer lies within the
bones. This gem produces red and white blood cells. Without these miniature beings working

day in and day out within our bodies, we wouldnt be alive. These mini red people freshen us up
each and every breath we take. They transport youth to the human body, and create the light of
optimism. With every breath, we feel more and more active, we feel ready to take on the world.
The mini white people help us fight through the sickness we feel when we are forced to do
something we dont want to.
If I were to break my leg, the thought of being culpable would be frightening enough;
however, what I would be most afraid of is the thought that I would need support and the
thought that I cant conquer the world alone. However, once I get past what I think is humiliation,
Ill come to realize that when its all over, Ill be stronger and more capable than I have ever
been. I have seen my friends walking down the hallways with casts, and I feel compassion for
them. But I avoid the misery and heartache of disgrace because when once I fall to the floor for
the first time, I will have experienced the most psychologically painful moment of my life. But
surely, once I get through lifes difficulties for the first time, the next will be easier, and the time
after that will be even simpler.
I have gotten used to the fact that I will no longer need as much support as I did during
my youth. According to scientific websites, as a child, we only had only 300 bones within our
bodies, but now we only have only 206. Where did those 94 extra bones go? Did they merge
into a whole? Did they transform into something else? Or did they simply disappear? Whatever
happened to them is history. The fact is that I only have 206 bones. The missing bones are the
support I needed as a child, the help I needed through learning to walk to learning how to walk
through all of the obstacles that life sends to whichever path I end up choosing. These bones
that supported my body are gone and pretty soon Ill be off on my own as well, trained to handle
the obstacles that life decides to give me.
When I was younger, I learned that the arm is the most commonly broken bone in the
human body. Back then I couldnt see how this was possible, as I thought my

arms were capable enough to handle anything. However, I now realize that they are so brittle, is
because everyday, we are forced to face our obstacles with the weight of the world in our
hands. And every night, we look at our arms, bloodied from a hard days work, and grieve over
the mistakes we made, never to take a glance at our accomplishments.
I have yet to decide who I am going to be or what I want to do with my life. As I am still in
my youth my bones dont know much about themselves either. They merge and lengthen until
they know exactly what path they have chosen for themselves. Once my years of adolescence
slowly come to their end, I will have experienced pain and hardships like never before. And like
my bones, when Im older, Ill know the exact directions to my path of life, the part of my
existence for which Im working long grueling hours for.
The roots of my knowledge and whatever hardships I go through will be forever
embedded within my bones. I know that wherever I go and whatever I do, every minuscule
moment I will remember, not because of my mind, but because of my bones, for the scars of
yesterday and tomorrow will be stored there forever. When my body is buried, my soul will be
gone, and my flesh will rot away, revealing the truth hidden so deeply inside.
After a long day of engrossed deliberating, I walked into my math class the next day, and
realized that my bones have engraved the knowledge that I can to do whatever I put my mind
to, and because of that, my mind is clearer, my ears are sharper, and I know that I will be
successful. I was always afraid of failure and misfortune, and I always played it on the safe side,
but I now see that because I was always scared to take that first step, I never I never stepped
back, and looked into a different world, filled with excitement and adventure; things I never new
existed. The thought of failure has always held me back, but my bones speak the truth when
they say that in order to succeed, one must be open to a countless amount of failures.