To say I don't like talking would be a lie. In fact, I talk far more than the average American. Now, however, sitting in my Process group, I do not feel like talking. Nope, I feel like moping and being hopeless. Which defeats the point of Process where you are suppose to talk and process your problems out. But why do I want to feel this way? That…I do not know.
"Hey guys, how was your morning?" Kerri, our Process group leader, asked us.
"Good," most of us replied.
"Ok. Let's start shall we…who wants to go first?"
"I will," AJ spoke, his voice dismal as always. "I'm AJ, I'm here for depression and anger," and trying to kill yourself, I added in my head. He never liked telling people that. "I'm feeling…happy. And...what's the question?"
"Oh, yes, the fun question," Kerri nodded. "Mhmm…."
"How about your favorite superhero?" Todd asked.
"And my favorite superhero is Superman," AJ finished. "I'll pass left."
I glared at him, I wanted to go last. I sighed inwardly and started, "Hi my name is Emile, I'm here for attempted suicide, depression, and anxiety. I'm feeling…depressed and hopeless…my favorite superhero is Wonder Woman or Bionic Woman."
"Oh, Bionic Woman," Todd smiled. "That's a good one."
"Hey, I'm Beth, I'm here for depression. I'm feeling…anxious, my family meeting is today. Um...I don't really have a favorite superhero…but I'll go with Batman."
I listened closely as Maria, Todd, and Sam introduced themselves, which was pointless because we damn well knew who everyone was. When they were done, Kerri smiled. "Floors open. Whoever wants to start go ahead…"
We remained silent.
"Don't all jump as once," AJ smartly remarked. I glared at him yet again; I can't stand how he pretends he's above all of this. He needed to be here just as much as the rest of us.
"Sam? How was your visit with your parents yesterday?" Kerri asked.
"Fine," Sam smiled. "My little brother, Noah, came. I was so glad to see him but he kept asking me if I was okay so I felt guilty."
"Why?" AJ incredulously asked.
"Because he's worried about me…I don't want to put that kind of stress on him."
"Stress? Sam, the kid's four. And you need to be here," AJ scoffed.
"And you don't," I snapped. Everyone looked at me.
"I didn't say that."
"Well you implied it."
"Ok guys…let's get back on topic," Kerri spoke. "Emile, how are things with your dad."
"The same," I replied. "He's a douche bag. I have finally excepted that that's not going to change."
"Isn't that sort of a negative way to look at things?" Beth asked.
"You obviously don't know my father. I'd just rather cut him off from my life then let him hang around tempting my mom."
"What do you mean tempting your mom?" Todd asked.
"He fucking moved to Alabama, that's two hours away. He said he 'needed a break'. Now he calls her every other day knowing damn well he isn't coming home but he's giving mom false hope. Plus, he always says he's going to do something but he never follows through. It's seriously pissing me off…." I mumbled pathetically.
"Is that why you feel hopeless?" Sam asked.
I groaned, I really didn't feel like talking. "I guess….can we change the subject please. Todd, what did your doctor say?"
"They're putting me on an antidepressant."
"Good," Kerri said. "Do you think that will help?"
I didn't wait to hear his response. Instead, I peered out the window. I watched the blue bird soar down to her nest and feed her babies. Though it was slightly repulsing, it also made me sad. If birds can be better parents than my father...what is the world coming too?
That night at dinner, I still felt anti-social. I sat at the table pushing my fork around in my pasta, the cool silver handle tingling my hand. I pondered in my head the many methods I could use to sneak the fork out of the cafeteria and back to campus. Then I imagined myself sitting in bed that night after my roommate Daniel was asleep, cutting my left wrist. I pictured the sweet crimson blood seeping out of my skin. However, I quickly tossed the fork onto Kristy's plate.
I pulled my journal out from under my tray. I took the pin stuck inside the plastic spiral and began to write.
I hold the knife, the handle cold
The pain unbearable, about to unfold
I press the cold steel against my skin
The tip, it presses in
A sharp pang and then I press deep
Wanting for the blood to be what I see
Press, pulling, ripping the skin
Waiting for the pain to sink in
The skin breaks apart
Splits in two
And I cant help, but to think of you
But I cant concentrate
The pain and blood too much
To think straight
Cut after Cut after Cut
The scratches look pathetic
Like a puzzle of mixed words
Not forming a sentence
The cool crimson spills out
No time to think with doubt
So as I drop the knife and see
What you have done to me
My arm is torn and scratched apart
Like my once whole heart
Its not because you don't love me
But because the truth is what I couldn't see
smiled, content with my work, and shut the journal. I looked up and locked eyes with Kayla. "I swear girl, if you wrote any more your fingers would fall off," she spoke, her thick accent ringing in her southern voice.
"How else do you expect me to get out my emotions?" I asked. "Nobody here really gives a damn, they just get paid to talk it out and tell us good luck, basically."
Dinner was over quickly, and now as I sit on one of the many couches in the lobby with Sam, Daniel, and Mike, I curled up with my book. Diary of a Teenage Girl. It's a good book. It's about a girl who views on life are similar to my own. However, she miraculously invited God into her life and now everything's Hunky-Dory.
I personally believe in God and Heaven and Hell and all that, but I don't go to church or read the bible. Hell, I barely remember to pray every night.
I looked up at Mike as Jessica smiled, "Could you go ask one of the staff if we can turn the TV on?"
"Sure," he mumbled. Mike was a pushover and I felt slightly angry at Jess until he came back and turned on the TV, "But I get to pick the show."
She laughed, "Deal."
Being able to watch only certain shows, he finally picked Full House. I normally wouldn't give the show a second glance, but when you're confined in such a place, your priorities change.
"Time to go to bed guys," Jeff, a staff member, came over and turned the television off after a few reruns. I sighed and stood, stretching a bit. Daniel and I shuffled over to our room, 9A. Jeff unlocked the door for us and I immediately went over to my dresser and started stripping. I changed into some boy shorts and took off my bra. I tossed them on the top of the dresser with the rest of my dirty clothing.
"Hey, D, I'm doing laundry tomorrow, want me to toss in anything?" I asked.
"Nah, I did laundry Tuesday," she spoke changing herself. I used the bathroom and washed my hands, coming out to find Daniel at the desk writing. I took my Winnie the Pooh coloring book and tore out a page. I grabbed my crayons and began to color my niece a picture.
Finally finishing the picture, I scribbled some thoughts into my journal and climbed in the bed.
"Oh, dude, I'm almost done," Daniel spoke.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to sleep…just thinking…"
However, I was going to sleep. But I waited and waited until finally she turned off the light and got into bed before I could fall asleep.