Lost in July

VI

Collin
~

I know she cussed me out and all, but fuck, I hope she's okay.

I've witnessed a lot of emotional baggage in my life. I mean, ninety percent of the friends I've had my entire life have either been mentally ill or close to someone who is.

Needless to say, I wasn't the least bit surprised or offended when Margo went all "get the fuck away from me" yesterday.

I'm genuinely worried about her, though. She's been here more than enough times to drive somebody crazy, and if she isn't getting better, I bet that only adds to her frustration.

This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. I didn't want to find myself getting involved with more people here. More people like Kyle. People that I know can leave me at any second. People who are so traumatized themselves that they can't help but put some of that onto those around them. People like me.

But here I am, worrying about her.

I'd love to not give a fuck like the rest of the population, but no, God graced me with a fucking conscience. Do you understand how hard it is to have a conscience when clinically depressed? It's fucking hard.

Conscience or no conscience, I still have to go to therapy today.

I push myself out of the massive beanbag chair and slowly walk to Dr. Indy's office. I press the button outside to let him know I'm here and wait to be let in.

He swings the door open with a smile and ushers me inside, encouraging me to take a seat. We face one another in silence for a second.

"How's your day so far, Collin?" His perfectly straight teeth and sharp hairline annoy me to no end.

"Fine, I guess."

"You guess?" He repeats, quirking his brow.

"Yeah. I don't ever really know how I feel. I'm too consumed by the sad." I rest my elbow on the side of the couch, holding my head up as my eyes zero in on the carpet.

Dr. Indy nods, scribbling in his journal. "But do you allow yourself to feel it? To feel sad?"

"I don't feel anything anymore," I answer truthfully. I haven't felt my sadness since my Grandmother died. I've become completely and utterly numb.

"Why do you think that is?" He leans forward, his voice encouraging. "Are you afraid to let yourself feel?"

I stay silent for a minute; maybe two, picking at my nails and trying so fucking hard to understand what it is I'm actually feeling. "I think I just don't have the energy anymore. For any of it. My body has...." I sigh, looking at Dr. Indy. "given up."

Dr. Indy does a great job of holding a passive expression. There were no signs of pity or sympathy on his face, just kindness and understanding. I don't know why, but I really fucking appreciate that.

"You're drained," he says.

I scoff. "Yeah. That's one way to put it."

"Is that why you took the pills?"

I wasn't prepared for that. I pause and stare at him like he's shot me. I guess there's no point in tiptoeing around it, right?

"I took the pills because I wanted to die."

Dr. Indy's face remains calm, not showing an ounce of surprise at my words. His eyes are soft and urge me to continue.

"I couldn't feel anything, or I would feel everything. All at once. All the time. It's fucking exhausting. I don't have it in me anymore, and if that makes me weak, so fucking be it." I cross my arms and stare at the floor again.