I Guess They Never Disappear

Chapter 27

Trigger Warning:  Unhealthy Relationship with Medication (Do not read if this is a trigger, stay safe everyone!){It's mostly the whole chapter, sorry.}

It's become easier to pretend that I'm okay. 

I'd like to believe that it's because I'm okay. 

I'd like to believe that I'm not pretending anymore. To be fair, I'm really not. I mean, there are still traces of my anxiety that float around like whispers, but I've gotten better at tuning them out. 

Not like I can ever tune them out completely. 

Maybe I've just gotten better at pretending that I can't hear them. 

You know, people always say to fake it until you make it. 

On the other hand, Jared seems to be worried more and more, which I find strange. I don't know why he seems so concerned when I'm doing so well. 

Part of me wonders if he just wanted me to not do well, for whatever reason. 

It makes it all the better that I'm taking less and less of the medication these days, although I can't tell him. For even though he doesn't know that I'm better and I've recovered from the shit that's tormented me my entire life, the thoughts that made other people feel like they needed to protect me, I can still see that I'm better off now. 

And maybe that's the best thing of all. 

A very, very little part of me wonders if I'm being a bad person. 

I don't think I am. 

I used to think that this whole thing, what with me stopping my medication and omitting facts from my conversations with Jared and pretending that everything was okay, made me a bad person. But over time, I've come to a realization. I'm just doing what's best for myself. I'm not a bad person. 

And it would be wrong to say I am. 

Besides, since nobody knows about what's going on, the only person I could possibly be hurting would be myself. 

And since I'm not doing that, there's no reason to hate this. 

Today is more therapy with Chris. 

Today, I'm actually going to try to get them to reduce my dosage. 

I mean, there's no real reason to do so, but while being okay has gotten easier, the stress of flushing pills down the toilet has not. 

I try not to think about that too much. I mean, it doesn't really affect me. Things like that don't bother me anymore, right? If anything, I'm just doing it because it's a waste to flush that much medicine when it could be going to someone else who actually needs it. 

And while Jared is looking at me weird still, even after that day in Ellison when I assured him that I was okay, (which concerns me, although I'm not sure what to do about it), Chris is not. 

Chris can't see through my actions, right? I mean, they would be the most disappointed in me if they found out, I think. Maybe they wouldn't. Hopefully, they wouldn't. 

Hopefully, they don't notice that anything's wrong at all. Not that anything is. 

When they open the door to their office, I try to square my shoulders and look up, and pretend that I'm feeling very, very confident about this meeting. 

Chris smiles and moves to shake my hand. 

"Hello Evan," they say, the very picture of calm and collected. 

"Hi Chris," I say. 

We go through the normal routine of rating my week. For work, I rate it a 9.5. For family, I rate it a 9. And for friends (which is mostly my rating of Jared, as I don't actually hang out with anybody else that much although I would never tell Chris that), I rate it a 9.3.