Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him-it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at leas...
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I let the door slam behind me as I enter the room and immediately flop myself onto the futon face down, just as my phone pings.
Dad: The pharmacy says your prescription has been ready for a week and you haven't picked it up. I will drop it off tomorrow, and transfer it to the campus pharmacy to make it easier on you.
I roll my eyes and send back a thumbs up emoji. Another side effect of 'the incident'. A daily dose of a drug whose side effects made me feel worse than better. But to my dad it's like pressing an easy button. A once a day pill that fixes all. One day without it and he thinks I will become manic, a walking zombie ready to terrorize and ruin his life. If he bothered to ask, he would know that I elected to stop taking it the second I turned eighteen two months ago, the refill must have been something automatic.
A second text is waiting for me, no doubt my dad's doing as well after speaking to the pharmacy.
Dr. Hartwell: Just checking in on my favorite patient named Camryn. I know you are making strides, but remember your words and thoughts can be your greatest strength or overwhelming downfall. No matter the idea, writing them out will be your best skill.
I exhale, considering her words. They remind me of something my mom would say. All mom's wield secret powers that allow them to know things not present to the naked eye or ear. Heightened senses somehow acquired during pregnancy like Spiderman being bitten by that radioactive spider, producing the spidey tingle when havoc hangs just around the corner. My mom's spidey tingle was programmed to notice a Camryn meltdown from a mile away. Super sprinting to me in a matter of seconds, a blur until suddenly she was at my side. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, tell me, what do you need to say or do right now to make the situation better, her voice so soothing it coated me like a blanket. My very own angel whispering in my right ear.
I often imagine what would have become of The Incident if she had been there to talk me through it. To visit me, check in on me and my progress, to celebrate each milestone with me. But then the reminder hits me in the face again, like spiderman accidentally swinging into a brick wall. If she had been here, the incident wouldn't have happened in the first place, or would have presented in a very different manner. More 'normal' for a teenager as my dad would say, like a boyfriend they don't approve of or secretly getting a tattoo that would make my grandmother pray for me daily.
I reread the text and contemplate what I would even write to sum up my days if I had to. I've nearly survived two weeks of college classes. Not that the first week counts, if only to remind us that universities don't abide by the whole Go Green movement with the amount of paper wasted on lengthy syllabi handed out in unnecessarily long first lessons that could have been an email.
The only thing I can be one hundred percent sure of is that staying up (I'm looking at you, insomnia) until three am every night and eight am classes is a disastrous cocktail, leading to an increase in my caffeine consumption, and a decrease in my desire to have a job. Until I can figure out how to adjust my own schedule I am in no state to be monitoring other students with even busier schedules than my own.
