Dreaming [completed]

Chapter Four

My parents grabbed me by the hood and tugged me back towards the kitchen. I groaned loudly to show that their convulsion irritated me, and my father let go of me. I turned to face the two adults and frowned.
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They seemed more upset than I did. My father's eyebrows were furrowed, and his arms were crossed tightly. His lips curled down into a frown and aged his face by a few years. His dark brown hair was gelled back into a sleek helmet that covered his scalp and half of his forehead. He was a big guy, but his sadness shrank him from a lion to a cat.
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My mother was much more angry than sad, but she had relatively the same look. Her black hair was pulled back into a limp ponytail. Her pale skin, dainty hands, short body, and colorless eyes made her look dead, but I assumed she was once full of life. Even though she wore a small dress and heavy makeup, I could only see her as a carcass that would never serve its purpose unless forced to.
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Apparently, I meant something to the two adults standing before me. Even though they never showed any appreciation for me, and never returned my love for them, I was clearly proven wrong when they forced me to come see a doctor with them.
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Personally, I had no idea my parents knew about my insomnia. Even with my late night 'dates' and my irritability (maybe even a bit of depression mixed in there), they never seemed to know that I was constantly struggling with exhaustion.
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At first, I had refused to admit to myself that I needed help.
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My sleeping issues started when junior high started. The first day was absolute hell compared to elementary school. I was used to being beaten up, but I hadn't had my innocence ruined until everyone else grew up as well. I was surprised that there was such a difference between elementary school and middle school, but I quickly realized that the extra hot summer had melted brains. Even the teachers seemed lenient, which was when I realized that I never wanted to grow up. The sleeping problems arose that night. The evening after the first day of school, I had stopped sleeping. I did not sleep that night, and I didn't sleep the whole first week of school in fear that the bullies would slit my throat when I closed my eyes. The fear was irrational, but there wasn't much I could do about it.
​After I realized that my sleeping disorder caused many of my bad grades, I gave up. "I'll go to see a doctor if you let me see a therapist."
​My parents shifted their weight from one side of their hips to the other. They looked at each other with such a look that made my likelihood of a therapist simmer down to a definite no. However, I gave up bargaining as well and agreed to let them take me.
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We had arrived at the doctor's office in the early evening and ended up staying in the waiting room for quite a while. Being the last people at a clinic was scary, to say the least. Patients were being wheeled around to stay overnight, and the pharmacists were leaving their posts.
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Eventually, I got into a room and waited for a nurse. My parents had decided to come along, probably to spectate what diagnosis my doctor would give me. I was a junior, and the doctor was yet to find out I was an insomniac. I didn't blame him, my doctor, because I had hid it pretty well.
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Obviously, I explained my situation and was immediately prescribed heavy medication. I wasn't very excited to be drugged to sleep, but I suppose I did just want some peace in my life.
​After the drama of middle school, I can distinctly remember going to high school and being made fun of the first day. After building up my social status and friends in junior high, everything was ruined to the point where I might as well have been a stranger. I was a complete stranger to myself anyways. I started wearing black and I dyed my hair a bit darker, so it's the color it currently is. Freshman year was the year I finally stopped caring about everything that held my future. School, family, and friends were all just accessories to the deep abyss that was my life.
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It's just as depressing as it sounds. Even though my life was underwhelming, I decide to describe it as the most anxious, sad story ever. At least pity was better than nothing, even though I only welcomed pity when I needed attention.
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We left the clinic and drove home silently. I could tell that my parents hoped and prayed for a normal child after this; thinking about how those simple pills could cure them of another headache they got once in awhile. Now this headache could try and cure another headache of theirs.
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We arrived home after a long drive. My father was driving, and he quickly parked our small car in the driveway. We all exited the car and smiled at each other. I could tell that they were just waiting for me to go to sleep tonight. Ironically, I was going to try to sleep tonight anyways. Angelica had convinced me that there was wiggle room for change, so I was going to trust somebody else for once, and I was going to try to fall asleep on my own.
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Even though I was set on re-teaching myself how to normally sleep, I was still glad I had medicine. I knew I couldn't do this all by myself.