Me, Myself And I

The healing process

Scarlett's POV

It's Thursday, which means....therapy! Oh sweet sarcasm. I was currently riding my bike to the therapist. I got my license yesterday and now I'm good to go. I got there with 5 minutes to spare. "Hey, I'm here for an appointment for Scarlett McCarthy," I told the receptionist, Paula. "She still has a patient but you can wait in the waiting room," she informed me. Great! I just nodded at her and made my way to the waiting room. As I sat there, playing with my phone, Paula informed me that Dr Lindemann will see me now. I knocked twice before she voiced that I should come in. I got in and sat on the beige couch situated in her office.

"Hey Scarlett, how are you?" She asked me. "I'm okay I guess," I shrugged. "Well that's good," she said. She took out her notes from our previous session then looked up to me. "So did you really paint your room black?" She asked me. "Yes," I told her in a duh tone. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I feel glad," I blandly told her.

"Why is that?" She asked intrigued. I sighed then looked down at my blue jeans.

"Because I wanted to do it and I did it," I nonchalantly stated.

"Why did you want to do it though?" She asked some more.

"I feel like we talked about this the last time I was here," I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Yes, we talked about it a bit but I'd like to hear if your statement is still the same."

"Okay. Well, I painted my room black because the colour is more realistic and neutral, much like my life."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because... I don't know. I haven't cried ever since I found out about my situation. I think a normal person would've but I guess I'm not," I told her.

"Tell me what you think the word normal means to you?" She challenged. I raised my eyebrow at her but answered anyway.

"I guess normal for me would be something that is not out of the ordinary?" I said it more like a question. "So, you see yourself as out of the ordinary?" She questioned.

"Well yes. I feel like my life is vice versa."

"In what way?" She asked as she carried on writing down what I said. "I feel like I'm comforting my parents and everyone else when it should be the other way around. I'm sometimes not sure what to do or what to say or feel. I sometimes feel like I'm out of control when I'm perfectly composed. Sometimes I can't really explain my own actions and feelings. I feel emotionally detached from my own body, the other day I snapped off at my best friend Jennifer. It wasn't my intention yet it happened. I have 2 people who care for me to the extent of needing therapy. I sometimes feel like I do things to keep up," I finally finished.

"Have you parents seen your newly painted room?" She asked. "Yup," I said while popping the p. "How did they react?"

"Honestly I think they are worried but they tried to play it off with fake smiles. I'm not sure why they are worried though. I just painted my room a different colour," I told her as I remembered the look on my mom's face. Yeah she was kinda horrified. "And your best friend, Jennifer, has she seen it?" She asked as she scribbled away. "Yes, she saw the paint job," I answered. "What were her thoughts about it?"

"She wasn't that surprised because she had said it herself that even before my coma I was into the colour black."

"Do you think you painted your room black because of a sudden liking to the colour?" She asked curiously.

"I don't know," I told her truthfully. "Why is that?" The doctor asked me.

"I don't know because it might also be a dream. Hell I dream a lot nowadays that I sometimes question reality," I told her.