My Not So Normal Love Story

Chapter 1: The Begining

" 'What's depression like?' They asked me, 'it's like drowning, without any water.' I replied"

"Hi sweetie, you must be," the doctor

who just entered began. She glanced down at the paper in her hand. "Ali Parks?" She said more as a question than a statement. "Yes ma'am" I said looking away. "I'm just gonna go in here and watch how you act for about an hour. Please don't act any different than you would if I wasn't watching." She said sounding sincere. I don't know if she does every patient like this, or if it's just me. "Alright" I replied anyway and she walked out of the room into another door.

She's just gonna say the same thing every other psychologist says. "Hm, I can't seem to find the root of her depression and anxiety, nothing really happened in her child hood that was mentally scarring, she isn't picked on in school, her teachers and peers say that she's a quiet girl who doesn't seem to have any boy drama. She's not over weight. She's one of a kind, I recommend you take her to another psychologist and get her checked out by them." Same thing 5 times in a role.

My parents are beginning to think I do it on purpose, for attention. But I'm not. And my doctors tell them that. So here I am, at doctor number six. Maybe this one can find out what's wrong with me before I have another panic attack. That's how my parents found out about how I am, I was studying for finals one night, and realized I was gonna fail. Holy shit. I'm gonna fail I'm gonna fail. Oh my God. I can't do this. Why can't I I just die all ready? I've been here 15 years. I think I've served my time here. Oh my god. I'm a failure. I can't do this anymore. Oh god. Oh god. Get me out. Oh my god.

"Ali? Ali? You okay there?" The doctor asked, quickly I realized I was rocking slowly back and forward crying.

"Yeah I'm fine" I said, obviously lying. If I was fine I wouldn't be here. She stood and looked at me for a moment before writing something in her notes and walking back out.

Now there thoughts,where were we? Ah yes, so my mom freaked out and called the ambulance, by the time they got there my already high blood pressure was even higher than normal. My vision was blurred horribly and I couldn't think straight, those words kept echoing through my head. I'm gonna fail. Not just that final, life. I'm gonna fail everything.

"No Ali. Your not gonna fail" I said in my mind, trying to keep myself from having another.

Anyway. The paramedics loaded me into an ambulance and that was the last thing I remembered. The rest of the night was a blur. I woke up the next morning, to my moms crying. I remember thinking 'what the hell?' She looked over at me and saw that I was awake. "Let me go get your father" she had said in a serious tone. Which was weird, she never called dad "father". But when they had came back they told me they had found my cuts when they were putting me into the hospital gown. So finally, I came clean to them. Which they told my doctor who already knew, and just wanted me to admit it. Of course he had me tested, and the tests came back positive for depression and anxiety. Mom and dad went to counseling, to learn how to deal with me, they've done a hell of a lot better than I thought they would. They mostly let me do my own thing now. Although, they've took every sharp item out of my room so I can't cut anymore. Which means I've been razor clean for two years and two months. But when the urge gets to bad I use my finger nails. I know I need to stop but it's not just that easy. I wish it was though.

I do my "school" online. Which is just a review of everything I've learned in the past 4 years, but I'm still a sophomore which I find ridiculous. I'm not doing the work they are, mines a lot easier. But I guess that keeps my stress down. I don't know. I don't really care either.

I got up from the chair I was sitting in and laid down on the floor and began humming 'Warrior' by Demi Lovato, which made me want to fully recover so I could sing it and it be true, but recovery isn't that easy, and honestly, I don't feel like I deserve it. But all my psychologists say I do. So whatever.

I rolled over on my stomach and decided to take a nap, and sleep off the pain. The desire to harm my self was getting over whelming. All the toys in here are for children. And I needed to distract my self so what better way than sleep. I took another look around the room, in the right corner was a table designed for children, it was bright red and had 4 matching chairs around it. Beside the table hanging from the ceiling was a small punching bag, I guess for kids to relieve stress or something. I'm not sure. In the left corner was a small desk with a rollie chair behind it, where I had sat only minutes before. (I didn't invite myself behind the desk, her assistant told me to sit there.) beside that was a door. In the opposite left corner I'm assuming is a bathroom, beside that door is a door that says "supply closet" and in the other right corner there's a big teddy bear and some books. Books, hmm. I could go for reading. I got up and sat down inbetween the teddy bears legs and grabbed a book. It was a princess book, i began to read it.

As I read I felt tears fall down my face, it was that fairytale about the girl with the really long hair, rapunzel. I'm not sure why I was crying, maybe because i miss my childhood? Not really. I don't know, I'm just sad. I decided to just stop reading, knowing me I'll cry so much I'll get dehydrated or something is that even possible? I looked around in the books and found a notebook with a pencil stuck in the side. I began to make little lines all over the paper, hoping I'd get inspired. And finally it worked. Some of the lines were shaped like a dragon, so I decided to draw a dragon, which I named society, ripping open an unnamed teenager.

After I was finished, I shut the notebook and put the pencil back in the spine and put it back on the shelf.