"I just hate it when the alarm clock already screams at you and you still can't make yourself get out of bed. Funny how I hate it but still make sure to set it before I sleep so that it will surely piss me off before I start my day. And because I am pissed off before I start the day, I am just pissed off all day long. I am pissed off of the bus coming earlier by five fucking seconds I had to run to get on it. I am pissed off of the person beside me who wears apple for a cologne. Apple?! It pissed me off because she was a walking breakfast for crying out loud. I am pissed off of the man standing in front of me wearing a glaring orange so early in the morning I wish I can paint it black or brown or something less annoying. I am pissed off of the revolving door at work because it goes against the morning rush at it spins gracefully on its own time I will be fucking late. I am pissed off that I got the J-elevator which was way down the hallway giving me more steps to take and more time wasted when it should be the G-elevator. I am pissed off because Meredith took the elevator with me I had to take all my energies to imagine she was not there - at all. I am pissed off by the tone of Jane, of Cora and Pete greeting me "Good morning" as I pass by their work stations. Can't they see I am pissed? I am just pissed off by anything and everything it makes time even slower. All day long I am just pissed off counting time, staring from time to time at the clock that never moves - as it should be - if I was not pissed off. And then there's this teammate of mine who, who, pissed me off because..."
He hid his smirk listening to him, pretending he was taking notes. It was the same rant over and over again every Tuesday for the past six months. It starts with the alarm and then he goes on and on and on with how pissed he was with everything. Practically anything. At least there is something new to the long list of rants from time to time, he thought. He took a deep breath, signed off his initials - SP - beside his doodles. He felt that he needed to interrupt. With a smile, "Jeremy, do you listen to yourself," he asked, fixing his eyeglasses, revealing his big, pointed nose.
"What do you mean, Doctor?" -
"Please, Jeremy, call me Sean," He interrupted again. He hated the formalities of his profession. He'd like to look at it not as a profession. "Doctor" seem to create a barrier from what he was supposed to do. To help people. And to him, calling him by his first name - Sean - was enough to create the much needed connection; the much needed trust. "I was asking you if you ever listen to yourself speak, Jeremy," he asked again looking at him sternly. "Like as you speak, you listen, too. Every single word; every single sentences and paragraphs or narratives you speak?"
Jeremy was taken aback. We fell silent trying to understand what Sean meant. He stuttered, "I...I do listen to what I say, Doc, I mean, Sean," trying to get used to calling him with his first name. "And these things I am telling you, that I am pissed off of from the bus to the...to the woman wearing that apple perfume..."
He interrupted blantly again, "How many times did you say piss off"
"Doc-", taking a deep breath, "Sean, I don't get you. I am telling you how terrible my day was yesterday. What is wrong about that?"
"Jeremy," he came closer at arms length, "16 times before I interrupted you. You said "pissed off" 16 times with all eloquence the word "piss off" can ever be enunciated. 16 times!" He reiterated.
"Oh," Jeremy sat back and wondered like a kid what his doctor was up to. "And?" He just wondered all the more, biting his thumb.
"Those were 16 times or more chances of looking at things better. And you wasted it on what pisses you off." He said it warmly. "You already know what happens when your anger reaches the top, Jeremy. Right?"
Jeremy just nodded. "I lose control," he confirmed, looking down. He closed his eyes and remembered, scene after scene; those memories, rolling in his mind. "I did not know that time, Doctor. I did not know." He shivered, sobbing, trying to open his eyes. The memories were still flashing in his mind and he jolted everytime he sees faces he recognized: his sister, Isabelle; his mom, Martha holding his baby brother, James; and his father looking at him horrified. And then time stopped. All the noise from his memories faded. All he can hear was his own breath as tears fell down his face. "They were stupefied. I tried to wake them up but they were just -"
"Not there anymore." Sean continued. "They were not there anymore. You told me they were not there anymore, Jeremy," he repeated reaching out and touched Jeremy's forehead with this pointer and index finger.
Suddenly, light engulfed the place and there was silence.
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It was seconds to 6 in the morning. Traffic was building up and it was just the normal morning buzz until the alarm sets off. It took him awhile to realize it was time for him to wake up. He felt his head was a little heavy as he struggled to sit up with his eyes still close. His other senses were already picking up the noise, the smell of pancakes from the unit above, the taste of his own saliva. Sushi - He remembered he had sushi for dinner. And milk if it was ever a good combo, he thought. He could see the morning light through his eye lids before he opened it. He yawned and stretched; and opened his eyes. Perplexed at what he saw, his heart began to pound.
