Diana (One Direction)

Good in Bad

I speak a different language, but I still hear your call

One Direction. One Direction. One Direction? Was this some sort of sick joke? Making celebrities come here and see how messed up and non perfect some people are? A pity party? So they can go back home and gossip to their extravagant girlfriends and friends how pathetic we are?

Bullshit. This is total bullshit. Mono-logic therapists and naive doctors trying to help, I can handle. But a group of arrogant foreign "man candy", I'm just done.

I stood up, my chair moving far behind me as I did so. Everyone looked at me. Immediately, I felt that standing up was a mistake, I felt heat rush to my cheeks as the head chairman or whatever you call it, Peter Starr, roll his pale, gray eyes. "Is there a problem, Miss Harp?"

The boys behind him were watching me too. I only knew what a couple of their names were, but other than that they were complete utter strangers to me.

I shifted my weight to one leg, and back to the other, bitting my lip. "Actually, there is." He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Well please make it quick then."

I nodded. "This must be some joke, right?" Everyone gave me a incospicuous look. "What? It's not like everyday you have a boy band visiting a rehab center, right?"

I saw that some of the other people here were nodding in agreement. Satisfied with my statement, I sat back down. Peter sighed, adjusting his glasses. He turned back to the boys behind him.

"I'm sorry for all this. Some of these patients are grateful to what we provide them with."

I knew he directed that last part to me. He wouldn't know grateful if it hit him on the head. This is exactly what I was talking about, everyone here thinks they know who we are and everything about us, but they don't. They think that they're helping us, but really we turn to ourselves to fix our problems in the end. And all they do is take credit and treat us like circus freaks.

Including One Direction in this doesn't really help at all. What do they know about any of this? How can they help us? I highly doubt that they know what we're going through. Drugs, abuse, self harm, suicide. Yeah because they think of those things while they drive around in their fancy cars and have thousands of girls screaming their name. They have the kind of luxury all of us here only can dream of having.

"Excuse me, Mr. Starr, but do you mind if I say something?" the blond, who's name I think is Niall, asked.

"By all means, knock yourself out," Peter said gruffly, stepping aside to let him through.

I wasn't familiar with any of these boys. I only knew a couple of their names, due to the many times my friends gushed over them throughout school. See, this is another thing I'm talking about. Everyone treats them like Gods. I find it point ridiculous how girls fight with each other calling one another "fake fans" and whatnot. I found this all too "mainstream" to think about. I remember the many times my friends have begged me to come to their concert with them, but I denied by lying saying that Sam had an important game at the University that day, when really I didn't want to be at a concert where these people sing about partying with girls, kissing them, and whatever.

Call me conservitive, but that's the truth.

Niall looked so out of place---they all looked out of place here. They wore expensive looking casual clothes and jewlery...like what man wears jewlery?! They all looked out of place, all standing in front of a group of "misfits" in an all white room. Just wait until the media gets their nasty little hands on this.

The media! Of course! This is probably all some scam from their bosses to make them come here and look so caring and understanding, when they're probably all judging us in their minds. But, yeah, it's probably all one big scam so the media could put it on a magazine in big bold letters: "One Direction Helps Teens with Serious Mental Problems".

Such Gods, right?

"I just wanted to say," Niall started, moving his eyes across the room until they landed on me, "that we truly want to help you guys through all this. This is a new program the boys and I wanted to test out and you guys are the first group. And we know that some of you guys will doubt us about all this, but we do know how all---most of you feel."

Bullshit. A load of crap. Fame, wealth, power, greed, is what all of this has written all over it. How do they expect to know that they're telling the truth? I have bad trusting skills now because of what I've been through before. How do they know? Didn't Harry date Taylor Swift and other fancy models, or were those all just lies. Isn't one of them getting married to another singer? Did you see how expensive looking the ring is?

Another one took Niall's spot, I forgot what his name was. "Niall's right, you guys probably think that we're all just a bunch of snobby celebrities, but we like to think of ourselves no higher than anyone else."

"Liars," the redhead next to me muttered.

He looked at her and sighed, "We just want to help. You guys need to trust," he said softly.

I had enough of this crap. I stood up abruptly, making the one who was talking visibly jump. "No, you don't want to help," I gestured to all of them, "None of you want to help. Your bosses probably just told you to come here and pretend to be our friends, so you could get your names on more telivsion shows and billboards. But don't you know how this affects us? You don't know what any of us have been through and don't pretend like you do." I walked out of that room, slamming the door behind me, not bothering to see what anyone's reactions were.

I forgot which way Meg led me through, and I didn't care. I found an empty room with chairs alligning the center and sat down in one.

I didn't notice that I was crying until I felt a wetness on my shirt. I then started crying harder. He was talking about trusting them. Trusting is very hard for me now. I trusted too many people in the past and look where that got me now.

I knew that crying wouldn't solve any of my problems, but I couldn't help myself from doing so. Whenever I cried, which was more frequent back then, but less now, I liked to name the good and bad reasons why I should cry. I got this habbit from my mom, before she died, whenever she saw me  crying she would sit down by me and help me list all the good and bad reasons for doing so. Listing stopped me from crying, and I've been doing that ever since.

Okay, the bad reasons I'm crying:

-I miss mom.

-I miss Sam.

-I won't see my friends or ever graduate.

-I'm trapped here all by myself.

-Everyone thinks they can help, but can't.

-No one understands how I feel.

-My emotions are bottled up inside of me, and I have to let them spill eventually.

Too many bad reasons to cry, August. I sniffled, rubbing my eyes. "Let's name all the good reasons to cry," I told myself softly.

-Eddie won't get near you ever again.

-You won't see dad.

-You can finally be yourself and not what everyone expects you to be.

-You're legally here for six more months.

I felt myself smiling at the last one. Six more months until I'm out...But what would happen then? Would I still live with dad? Would I become homeless? Would I have to go back to school and face everyone? I felt like I was living my life like a robot, going through the same process everyday. Would I be like this in the future?

Calm down, August. Just don't think about the then, think about the now. Gee, I sound like Sam. I realized that I stopped crying. I wiped my face with the sleeves of my shirt and quietly got up and left the room.

"You know, it's very rude to get up and leave in the middle of a session."

I screamed.

~Xx~

Hey guys! Once again, I wanna thank everyone for all the votes and comments, means millions. And I wanna discuss "Diana/August" with you guys. Some of you messaged me, wondering who I casted as Diana. And cliche as it might sound, I want you to think of yourself as her. Becuase we're all Dianas in here, right? Even though it's not written in second person, don't imagine her as like Ariana Grande or Selena Gomez, make it you:)

Read, love, vote, comment, enjoy:)