My life is a lie.

The hours move to minutes, the days turn into weeks.

The addiction has gotten worse since Andrew left. Everything's normal except for the fact that I'm living in a "close watch facility" My professors want me to seek treatment, but really I'm okay, I promise you.

I've started to attend a weekly therapist but it doesn't help. Mr. Teeny isn't reliable, everything I say is written down and the put in my file. I've learned that very quickly.

12PM:

"Britt, please go get me a box of cigs"

"No, you know I can't do that, you're on restrictions."

"Please, I'm literally dying. They took everything from me."

"I'm hanging up Charlie. Bye, see you in Physics."

"God asshole, can't you help me."

"Charlie, I'm not being an asshole. I'm just following the rules."

"Why do you always have to follow the rules?"

"Bye Charlie."

"Britt?"

"You know me, I can't break the rules. My mom would absolutely kill me."

"She wouldn't know."

"But you and the cashier and I would know. And maybe some other person would see me. Oh and I forgot God would know."

"What ever, I'll just call Carly"

"Goodnight Charlie"

4PM:
Another day to sit in a small room and limitlessly express my feelings to a creepy 40 year old who is strangely obsessed with my life. Or you could call it therapy.

"Good evening Charlie, great to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same Dave."

"Please, call me Mr. Teeny, I am not a friend but a therapist."

"Dave."

Countless hours wash by until it's around 7PM.
The meeting was the same, medication, medication, and more medication. I took it once, and that was a huge mistake. So I just flush it down the toilet. The only person that knows I don't take them is Britt.
We're really close. She's the goodie two shoes and I'm the drug addict. We fit great together.

[Short chapter, but I'm back!]