"You really get on my nerves, Sunshine." I stare her down, watching as her lips curl into a smile.
Carson brings her hand to my own. "But you like that, don't you Ian?"
"You're lucky I do."
𑁍𑁍𑁍
Killian sees others as an interference in his life...
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Saturday, November 5th
Therapy is a waste of my time. It's the same questions every single meeting, and the same answers from me. Not to mention that the exposure and response prevention therapy makes me want to rip my head off.
Celine, my psychiatrist, opens the door to her office. She steps out, greeting me with a bright smile.
"Hey, Killian." She steps out of the way, gesturing for me to go inside. "Head right in."
I rise from the chair I'm in, brushing past her and into the office. At first glance, I see all of the things laid out for our session today, and I cringe.
I can't do this.
I take my seat on the couch that's positioned conveniently in front of her chair. She sits down as well, crossing one leg over the other.
"How are you feeling since the last time we met?" Celine begins with the very first question of many.
My leg bounces, and my hand is in a loose fist on it. "The same."
"Did you try any of the methods we worked on last time?" She reaches in front of her for the notepad on the coffee table.
"Yes."
She peers at me as she scribbles things down. "And did they work?"
"No."
"What about the pills?" Celine flicks her hair back. "Do they still work for you?"
I exhale from my chest, fighting against the restless feeling in my body. "Somewhat."
"Can you tell me-"
"I don't want to keep coming here anymore. It's been the same questions, one after another, for half a year. Nothing has changed," I spit, letting utter frustration get the best of me. My leg stops bouncing as I plant my feet firmly on the ground, ready to leave.
Celine stops writing, sighing before setting down her notepad. She pulls her glasses back, resting them on her head. "You know things aren't going to change that easily."
"I know," I say, looking out the window. I refuse to look at her after my little outburst.
Celine taps her fingers on her knee, thinking of how to approach my behavior. She leans forward, grabbing her coffee cup. I assume that by now, she's trying to figure out a different way to handle the situation.
"Alright then. Let's start fresh." She takes a sip of coffee. "You've mentioned to me before that you have a hard time connecting with people. Have you found anyone who you can connect with since then? Perhaps a friend?"
A friend?
"Yes."
She smiles, seeing that I've made a friend with someone since our first meeting many months ago. "And what is their name?" I finally face her again.
