The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.
~ Hubert H. HumphreyAfter leaving Imogen's room, I stay in my own, locking the door yet again. For good measure, I push my dresser in front of it. I nearly put my bookshelf in front of the door instead, but books are too precious to me. If Imogen decides to do something crazy to get into my room through the doorway, at least my books will be safe.
I sit on my bed and plug my headphones into my phone then put them over my ears. I then go on my phone and put my music on shuffle, hoping nothing sad comes on. After that, I grab the book I'm currently reading off of my nightstand and open it to the bookmarked page and let the world around me disappear as I immerse myself in my book. I get so distracted while reading that I almost miss the talking I can slightly hear coming from the living room. Imogen and Amara must have returned. I turn my music up, wanting to drown out any other noises. I ignore the heavy knocking I can barely hear over my music, and instead, I turn my music up.
At one point, my mind starts to wander away from the words I'm reading on the page. I can't help but worry about the future, and also get depressed by the worst case scenarios I keep unintentionally thinking up. I soon realize that my eyes won't stop reading the same paragraph over and over again, and yet, I don't know what it said. I let out an aggravated sigh and place the bookmark back in the book before slamming it shut. Even though it makes a satisfying noise and allows me to get rid of some of my anger and sadness, I immediately regret handling a book so forcefully. I murmur an apology to it before gently putting it back on my nightstand. Another sigh escapes my lips as I move so I'm laying down on my bed. I put my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling in silence, just focusing on the music flowing through the headphones.
Depression hits me again like a freight train, making my constant sadness escalate to the point where tears are falling down my face. In a moment of weakness that I'll definitely regret very quickly, I go on my phone and put on my sad playlist. It's songs that usually just make me sad or feel even more down if I'm already in a bad mood. Sometimes I like to wallow in my sadness and pain, even if I end up sobbing and feeling regret.
A notification on my phone makes my music momentarily lower in volume. I debate whether or not I should look to see what it is or not, but once I start getting a barrage of notifications that keep making my music slightly quieter, I groan irritably and pick up my phone, pressing the home button in order to see the notifications. I'm surprised to see loads of texts from my youngest older brother Nikolas. Since both of us are quite busy people and we don't live anywhere near each other, we don't talk much, maybe about once a month. I talk to my other brothers even less since I'm not as close to them as I am to Nikolas. The last time Nik and I talked was a few days before the box I ordered came, so I wasn't expecting him to text me again until next month. I read through the messages,
Hey short stack! I'm free and wanted to check in!
I scoff at the nickname. He always calls me that, even though I'm only two inches shorter than him at a height of 5'8". My other two brothers are taller than Nikolas, yet they don't call me short! It's just him!
Hello?
You okay?
Freya don't you dare ignore me!
I'm gonna keep texting you until you respond.
Freya
Freya
Freya
Freya
Freya
Freya
YOU ARE READING
Prideful Shirts
RandomA tale of a place where you can go to meet people that you might be interested in and the only thing stopping people are their shirts.