❝Who're you?❞
❝Fallon. I'm your candy striper for the next two months. Who are you?❞
❝I'm a lonely, incredibly depressed, cancer-inflicted, dying, nineteen year old boy.❞
❝Nice to meet you, a-lonely-incredibly-depressed-cancer-inflicted-dying-ninete...
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luke.
"How're you holding up?"
I shrugged and slumped further into my seat, fumbling with the fraying on the ends of my t-shirt. This was always the most boring part of the day - I'd rather be playing chess with the Alzheimer guys on the unit above us, to be honest. "I'm alive, so I guess that's good," I eventually forced myself to look up and say, shaping my lips into a forced smile.
I honestly hated the entire concept of therapy - or at least the concept of forcing long-term care patients into therapy. It's like, if I were a completely normal and healthy person, as in no cancer, no tumor, no nothing - just my skin and bones and my soul and brain - nobody would notice or care if I were legitimately sad.
But the minute you're admitted into a hospital, the minute people start to realize that you're dying - everyone suddenly notices. Everyone suddenly cares. Everyone suddenly gives a shit, and wants to ask how your day was, and what you've had for breakfast, and if you're happy or sad - and the worst part is that it wasn't because they genuinely cared, it was because they pitied you.
I hated pity. I hated it even more than I hated therapy.
Darren sighed loudly and licked his lips, moving back to his brown to sit and stare me down rather intensely. He was the hospital's shrink, basically, and sure as hell looked like it too - brown, stereotypical Italian mustache, gray suit, circular glasses and a few white hairs. Michael said he looked like a pedophile.
"How's your new striper?" He'd finally asked after eyeing me up and down for a few more moments, "The one who replaced Ashton?"
I shrugged my shoulders again at the mention of Fallon, surprised to find that right now, I'd actually rather sulk around her than be in this room, with Darren the Pedophilic Psychologist. "She's alright."
"Alright? That's all you have to say about her?"
My eyebrows knit together, "My bad, what other adjective would you like me to use? Zealous? Magnificent? Exquisite? Orgasmic? Supercalifragalisticexpiali-"
"Although I love that movie and haven't seen it in years, that isn't my point," Darren interrupted me, chuckling, "All I'm saying is that you don't sound very enthusiastic while describing her, bud."
Instinctively, I rolled my eyes, "I've known her for seventy-two hours, Darren."
"Fair enough," he nodded and adjusted his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose, "I just want you to remember that you have to start accepting new people into your life, Luke. You've got to learn to step a little bit out of your box and meet new people, make new friends."
