I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The Thirty-Fith Chapter

I clutch onto a piece of paper.

The therapist said that shock therapy isnt safe for me anymore. Because

The therapist said that I should try a different solution.

The therapist said try a support group.

Theres an address on the paper. Actually theres more than one choice, but the one Im going to has been highlighted.

"It will be fine. I wont be able to come in, but after Ill be here and we can work it out." Patrick says.

Imagine me going to my first day of school again.

"Ill come in with you to check it out if you want."

I nod once and step-pace towards the entrance.

But honestly, what can go wrong? Everyone has already been through the worst, thats why they came through those doors in the first place.

"Hi there, Im Tiffany, how can I help?" A lady, almost too glamorous to be sat behind a desk asks.

"Im looking for the support group?" I choke.

"Up there on the left." Her long, candy pink nail points and curls around the corner.

I smile at her and turn to look at Patrick. He leads the way up the stairs and waits at the door to the left.

"Here it is. Ill check it is in here..." He says to himself.

And Im just cowering behind him.

He opens the door and pokes his head around.

I dont see what happens, but he shouts and somehow ends up staggering backwards into me. All over him a girl in a Fall Out Boy tshirt, just staring at him. She flicks her fringe to the side and wipes his hair out of his face.

Patrick, meanwhile, seems fairly traumatised.

Maybe he could do with a bit of this too.

"Oh. My. Chemical. Romance!" The girl squeals.

She has a blonde and a blue streak in her hair. She probably also has a tattoo of Patrick on her ass.

"I never thought Patrick would have any problems. But here he is, at my support group! The support group I go to!"

She rambles and Patrick is just staring.

"Hi, sorry, could I- urm- have a little space?" Patrick asks.

"Holy smokes he is so po-lite!" She is freaking out.

"Sorry, Im not here for the support group. My... friend is kind of worried and I said Id make sure its okay..."

Lets just say she looked disappointed.

Jump forward to Patrick leaving for Starbucks and me sitting in a circle with some strangers.

"Hello. Remember we dont judge anyone here." The person leading this shenanigan says.

They all look at me.

"Whats you name and why are you here?" Someone else says impatiently.

They better get comfy, this is a wild ride.

"Im Jesse and I have a drinking addiction. Well, I havent drunk for at least a month and if I do I could probably die." I lift up the bottom of my top and let them get a peek at my scar. "When I got drunk Id have rampant sex... And rarely remember it..."

I lead off.

"I tried shock therapy but that didnt work... Actually it almost killed me."

I might as well go all out. I take a deep breath.

"I was on the run but then it turns out they didnt want me after all. My only friend committed suicide and left me alone. Oh, and Patrick stump has thus far stopped me from drinking myself into an early grave."

Everyone stutters "Hi, Jesse." as out of unison as you could get.

"I wish Patrick could have got to me before it was too late..." Fall Out Boy top says.

"Hi, Im Zack and my friend also committed suicide on me. My grandma is turning into a squirrel because of her mental illness and wont die. My grandma wont die, but my friends seem to do nothing else."

Well Zack, we seem to have something in common.