Powerless (Geoff Wigington)

17

lol remember when i used to update everyday? What happened to that Des???? I hope ya'll had a good new years eve & 2017 is treating you well so far!!

3 chapters left

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"Well Quinn, to be honest I don't normally like diagnosing these types of things," Doctor Reender snaps her clipboard closed and holds it against her stomach. "But you are certainly showing signs of clinical depression." 

The words ache in my gut as she continues to speak about how this shouldn't discourage me and I shouldn't worry until I speak to a psychologist but I begin to tune her out, staring instead on the cabinet that's halfway open behind her. I distract myself briefly by wondering what could be in it. Cotton balls, or tongue depressors maybe. Some kind of doctors office shit. 

When she finally ends our meeting, with one last, "Don't worry Quinn, I'm sure everything will work it's way out in the end!" I try my hardest not to roll my eyes but of course I do as I'm pushing open the doctors office door and stepping out into the warm April air. 

I pull out my phone and attempt to make my text to Geoff seem light hearted.

According to the doctor, I'm a real true emo now kiddo. #clinicaldepressionKREW

His response, as always, comes immediately. 

Geoff <3: That's not funny Q, don't joke ab shit like that. What did she say?

Me: I wish I was joking.

He doesn't reply. 

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Morty doesn't bother to get up and greet me, let alone wake up when I get home from my doctors appointment. He chooses to instead continue to take up the whole couch, snoring loudly. 

I drop my purse next to the door and sigh, feeling completely defeated after actually having to do stuff today. And it's only noon. 

The flowers on my table are wilting and the mere sight of them make me want to cry, which I realize is stupid so I push it back and kick off my shoes, accidentally kicking the wall in the process.

"Fuck!" I shout, immediately grabbing my big toe and holding it in my cold hands. Morty doesn't even twitch at my outburst, again making me want to cry. 

I straighten up and let go of my foot, carefully taking off my other shoe before slipping off my jacket too, effectively hitting my elbow on the coat rack, in just the right spot to make me shout yet again. 

When I'm finally over that, still holding back a wave of emotions that threatens to come spilling out from the days strain, I walk into the kitchen, doing my best to ignore the pile of dishes in the sink. 

I pull open the fridge, looking for comfort food honestly, anything that'll keep me sane through this shit day. My eyes scan all over before landing on a glass bottle of Starbucks coffee that I don't remember being in the fridge earlier, a green sticky note slapped onto the lid. 

I hope you have a day as beautiful as you are. 

Love, Geoff xx

I hold the bottle in my hand, staring at it as I turn around and slouch down the counter, leaning my head against the cupboard where I keep all the tools and pesticides I barely use. 

I pull the note off the bottle and set the glass on the ground next to me, holding the green paper in my hand. 

For whatever reason, the note pushes me over the edge and before I can stop myself, tears are flooding down over my cheeks and I'm taking huge breaths, trying to fight off the impending anxiety attack.