W H O ? // joshler*

My name is...

Behold! First "appearance" of josh. 💗
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"Tyler."

His annoying voice grates on, causing me to shake my head in frustration. God, how many times can you fuck up?

"No! I am not Tyler!"

I don't know how many fucking times I've told him this. I take it back. Maybe he just never listens.
This whole thing was a mistake, I don't even need help. My head is beginning to hurt with the onset of another migraine. This one feels worse than normal, a big cloud of black and dark purple whispers, dragging me down into the terrifying recesses of my mind. These meetings always cause migraines, which are characterized with my fears and talking demons. I can hear my other voices swimming inside my head, one fighting for dominace, the other cowering in fear like always. I want this to stop! I'm so tired of feeling lost and scared, and I don't think I can take much more of their incessant screaming. Desperately, I try to knock them out the other side of my head. The more I hit, the louder they get.
Hands wrap around my wrists and I choke, looking up in confusion, lost in the purple haze of my psyche.

I can't breathe
I can't breathe
I can't BREATHE.

"What are you doing, don't touch me!" I scream frantically, lashing out with all of my might.
Behind me, I hear someone gasp as I accidentally smack the older man's glasses off of his face.
Please stop...
Please...

"Who's there?"
I ignore the stupid, whiny voice in my head as I scramble around to see a red-haired boy jolt pass the small square window in the big oak door.
"No one is there, you're okay. "
The older man in front of me soothes my panicking down and let's go of my small, feeble wrists. I sink back into the comfy chair, taking in my surroundings. I don't trust him and I don't trust whomever was at the door, but something about the small room brings me back up into the fresh air. Oxygen struggles to make it down my throat as I try to control my breathing. The worst part is subsiding. I feel the bubbles of my attack pop, loosening up my esophagus and allowing the much-needed air to flow in.
After a few minutes of quiet breathing exercises, I open my eyes and peer at my surroundings. The familiar coffee table, the painting of a boat on the wall. The cracking paint around the corners, and the somehow reassuring smell of fresh laundry. I instantly feel safer. Safer than I normally feel, at least. My mind takes me to wild places, full of danger and adventure.

Sometimes my thoughts become jumbled and I forget who I am. I don't really know who I am to begin with, but it becomes a lost feeling. Like losing your parents in a grocery store. Everything turns to a fog and The anxiety creeps in like black smoke on The horizon. An inevitable doom that you know you can't escape. That feeling when you know bad things are about to happen but you can't fix it, only wait it out.

The man is still standing in front of me, ready to hold me back from hitting my head if needed. I feel the dark fog clearing from my vision, the remembrance of who I might be and why I'm here.
I focus on his face, trying to remember his name.
"Dr. Landon!" I exclaim, realizing what's going on.
"Where are your glasses? And who was that at the door?"
He stands up straight and adjusts his glasses back into his face, sitting back down into the chair across from me.
"Don't worry about my glasses. The boy at the door was merely just a passerby. Have you been taking your medications? The ones to help your migraines?" He immediately begins recording things down on his checkboard, while still watching me closely.

In the back of my head, I can still hear a small voice, trying to break through above the other. I know I should listen. It's not like I can't determine right from wrong. But I can't escape the feeling of rebellion. I want to make him hurt and suffer the way he made me suffer. He doesn't deserve to have a say in this right now.
Just tell him the truth...we can do this together...please...
I quickly shake my head, pushing the voice back even further. I don't want to hear him today. I'm not ready to be okay.
But I am...
I shift uncomfortably in my chair, willing his annoying sounds away, absentmindedly twiddling my thumbs.

"They don't work, so I refuse to take them."
I can see a look pass over his face, but I can't interpret it. I'm such a piece of shit. Why do I always do this? He's disappointed. He has to be. Everyone always is.

"I told you, they will take time. You have to give them time. We'll try again."

I don't want to. Nothing can help me now. I'm fine the way I am. I've accepted that I will always be messed up and unloved. I'm worthless, and worthless things don't deserve help.
But you do... And so do I. We need this..
"Goddamnit!"
I see Dr. Landon flinch and automatically realize I said that out loud. Goddamn me. No wonder people think I'm crazy. I feel something beginning to creep up my throat and close around my throat. I have to get out of here.

"Can I leave now? Our session time is over and I want to go home."
All I need now is my bed and sleep. I don't want to think anymore today.
He sighs, and holds out a slip of paper. More prescriptions.
I can tell he wants to get up in my feelings and shit but I don't need that either.
"Please try, I know you can do it. Ty- i-"
"Just stop." I dismiss him with my hand and grab the stupid slip of paper.

I collect my backpack and burst out of the door and into the hallway. As I'm leaving, I see just a hint of familiar red hair slipping into another room...

Forbidden.

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A/N hi guys! So I don't know if you've noticed but this middle personality is basically a mixture of being normal at times and calm and then angry and depressed. I'm still working the kinks out though. I still don't have a name for it yet, and I could use some help. 💗 sorry if this is crap.