All in my head

First Day

If I had a wish granted by a Genie I would want him to make me forget everything that I remember from my past. I would absolutely love to wake up with amnesia and have a great life by not thinking about anything that happened with me. Over the past few months things haven't been so easy. If you're thinking whether I tried to commit suicide then you're right. We all have thought of it at least once but have always failed. Not because we were saved but because we did not actually want to die.
Coming back to my horrible life situation, so yeah, I am a girl with real girl problems. I don't have a boyfriend and I also don't have a friend. But I have a lovely family who's been after me ever since I was born. Does that even make it better? No. It doesn't. Because what I actually need is a social life, which I don't have, unfortunately.
I don't even have a sibling. All I have in the name of a cousin is a little sister who is obsessed with 16th century art and dressing up like guys.
"Ready?" Dad asked me from outside the door of my room.
My Dad is the coolest father you'll ever meet but sometimes he annoys me to the core. He's really funny and doting but he's got some psychotic episodes of him sometimes. For instance when he found out that I liked a guy who was into drugs, he literally just called his parents and asked them to not let their son come near me. That poor boy didn't even know who I was; I guess it was a bit painful for him when he found out that his parents knew he did drugs. Life's hard.
I was sitting in front of the mirror, on my chair which I used to use for getting ready. But it doesn't serve any purpose then. I despised getting ready. I felt like I should just sit in one corner of my room and stare at the walls; talk to myself or maybe curl up on my bed and cry until I run out of tears. Depressed people do things like that now and then. It's normal in the depression world. I went out sometimes. I'd stroll near the park or sit at coffee shops and think about how miserable my life was.
Maybe this was the reason Dad was taking me to a psychologist. He prefers to call him or her a therapist but I don't care. It's not much different. He thought I was crazy because I get off topic too easily and start to speak very quickly without realizing what I am speaking. I was in my sweatpants and Dad was staring at them like as if he expected something else. I was a little better as it had been a long time since that thing happened but I was not completely okay.
I didn't say anything. I wanted him to figure it out himself that I was not in the mood of dressing up. "I'll be waiting in the car outside. Come down once you're ready." He informed, his voice had the lowest sound.
I nodded twice.
As I was sitting in front of the mirror, I noticed my eyes. They're puffy and looked like I haven't slept for over a month. Although that's true, I still didn't believe it. I didn't believe that I haven't been able to sleep for a long time. I had treated myself a couple of times and I gate crashed a pool party at a random dude's house. These were just some things that I did to make me feel better and the only thing that turned out was that I never felt any better. No one talked to me and the more I thought of talking to other people they'd ignore me more.
I pulled my hair up in a ponytail. Without using a comb; I just gently brushed my fingers through them. I got up to my feet and walked; lingering towards downstairs. I saw Mum in the kitchen and she's cleaning the marble slab with her old dusting cloth which she has been using since last two months. That's disgusting.
Mum is the kind of person who would support their child no matter what but only until they have access to food and shelter without any problems. She's a cool Mum and tries to save me whenever I do anything slightly mischievous. The only thing I hate about her is that she is always so much involved in making my life better that sometimes she totally sabotages it unknowingly.
She turned around to call me up but she stopped after seeing me, standing there already. "How are you feeling, honey?" She asked.
"I'm the same." I barely make any sound but she manages to hear it.
"It's uh... getting late. You should go; Dad's waiting outside." I heard her but I didn't make any remarks. I just walked away and got in the car. Dad didn't ask me anything. He was just driving slow and steady with a speed of fifty kilometers per hour. The road was clear so I did not make any peculiar sounds. I'd grown this hatred for travelling in any vehicle, especially at night. I don't feel safe. It has not always been like this but now it is, so I just have to deal with it with the best I can. I failed at times and I started to behave abnormally. Anyway, it doesn't matter.
"Aura, you know I love you, right?" I did not respond to him. I just looked at him and gave an expressionless and unamused face. "I can't see you like this Aura. You've become like a dead body. I want you to come back and talk to me... us. Or just talk to your Mum or Sara or any friend of yours. Just try to be happy."
I still didn't speak anything. "You wanna rant about Sara's Mum? I'd agree to that if it makes you happy."
"I just... want to be alone for some time." I finally spoke.
"You've been alone for enough amount of time, Aura. I'm so worried about you." His forehead creased a bit more than usual.
I swallowed the traces of saliva left in my mouth. "I'm trying my best."
"But what exactly happened? Suddenly you've started to act so much... bizarre."
"My therapist will certainly help me. I guess." I put my gaze outside the car and saw the trees. That's all that I found interesting in that moment. Those trees made me feel close to something that didn't exist. I just wanted to get out of the car and sit in the woods. I didn't care if I was all alone or if my safety was in danger. I just wanted to open the door of this shitty car and run into the area that called me. But I certainly couldn't. I had an appointment with a psychologist. Sorry, therapist. All I had to do is sit in a closed room with no trace of fresh air. In the next few minutes I would be in a closed room with heater on and a woman or a man who desperately wants to get all those nasty secrets out of me just because he or she is paid for that job.
What a rubbish job to have. I mused to myself.
I can't even handle my own problems, why would I, or anyone, want to listen to other people's problems and try to help them. Wouldn't it be a bit overwhelming at certain times when you get tired of hearing the same bullshit from people you don't even know? It's a quite difficult task actually.
"Yeah, he will." Dad rolled his eyes and focused on to driving again. I was thinking about all the things I went through lately. I remembered those few days when I was actually happy and the days which finally led to this moment where I felt so miserable about myself and everything that surrounded me. I didn't even have anybody to talk to. I didn't have anyone earlier, either. Even if I had, I couldn't just tell them how I feel because I thought that they won't understand. I recalled the day when I was crying in my room. I was so furious with everything around me that I cried aloud. Dad and Mum came in hearing me weep. I was still crying so hard. They tried to ask me what happened and why I was crying. Suddenly, I snapped out of it and I was in the present moment.
We reached at the hospital and it gave me the feeling that you get when you visit a graveyard at night. The building was the color grey. No trees around, just bare land with some houses on its sides. Dad escorted me to the reception and he got our appointment checked from the receptionist. She was a middle aged woman named Grace. I saw her name on the nameplate kept on her desk. She seemed quite nice to me, the one who could help you when you need her.
"It is room number 225. He's waiting for you." She gave us a smile and a young boy, probably the staff member, escorted me further to the room. Dad said he was going to wait for me in the cafeteria.
I followed the guy to the appointment room. He opened the door for me and I went inside. I saw a man sitting on his sofa just in front of the huge room with carpet all over the floor. The room was mainly filled with dark colors. The walls were the deep brown shade and the carpet was multicolored but dark. The two sofas sets were pale white.
"Hello Miss Anderson. Take a seat please." He was very polite.
I sat down on the sofa and said, "Hell-o." My voice felt heavy and my eyes felt sleepy. My legs were folded up on the sofa as I thought that we are allowed to be comfortable when with a psychologist. I said my 'hello' in that way to emphasize the word 'hell'. I placed my bag beside me. I had been drained by everything that surrounded me. The aroma inside and the color of the room was so depressing that I didn't feel like I was there to feel better.
"Are you comfortable?" He enquired.
"Yup," I replied, fidgeting with my legs.
"I'm Dr. Larsen. I will be your friend for a couple of days." He smiled at me, showing off his perfect white teeth. I smiled a vague and uncaring one.
"How old are you Miss Anderson?"
"I'm eighteen."
"Where are you from?"
"It doesn't matter." He raised his eyes when he heard this from me.
"Have you been seeing any changes in you?"
"What kind?" I asked. Who asks this?
"Anything related to your sleeping pattern or your mood nowadays or anything regarding your health." He made it clear.
"It is my sleep pattern that I'm worried about... and of course my new ability to isolate myself completely."
"What about that? Have you been feeling more sleepy or not at all?"
"Before... I used to sleep like how a person normally sleeps. Then back in December I slept as soon as I'd lie on my bed. Now, in January I feel like I can't sleep at all. Like as if someone had taken my ability to sleep. I rarely fall asleep for like approximately two to three hours. The rest of the night I'm just awake, staring at the ceiling. Probably... thinking... too much and crying sometimes."
"Have you been going out, lately? I mean just going out with friends or family?"
"No. I never went out with friends ever before. It was on rare occasions that I ever did that. I definitely went out with my family but now I just don't because I don't feel like. I gate crashed a couple of times but that didn't work out because no one would talk to me."
"How long has it been like that?"
"Always." I made a face. "But it specifically grew much stronger after December ended." I nodded.
"Did something happen that you want to share about."
"I don't want to share it with anyone. I'm sorry. Maybe afterwards. Like... when I know that you're really good at your job."
"It's okay. So, how are you feeling today?" His voice was deep.
"Can't you see? I'm here because I feel awful." I grimaced.
"Let me rephrase. How do you want to feel today?"
"I want to die."
"Dying is not an option for anyone." He took a long pause. "Tell me how you've been feeling lately." He smiled.
I took a deep breath in. "I really want to die. I just... I just don't find anything meaningful in life. I don't have a reason."
"So, do you mean that you don't have a reason to live?" He narrowed his eyes, still smiling.
I nodded.
"What makes you feel that way? Tell me..." There was a pause. "I'm here to help-"
"I know... I know you're here to help me. I'm not retarded." I cut him speaking, my voice was loud. "I have a story." I kept on nodding and my voice was calm now. "And it's stuck inside my head." I made a 'holding a gun on my head' sign.
"What story?" He demanded to know.
"See... I don't think that anyone would believe me."
"Try me. I'm here to help..." He smiled. "I can be a good listener at times. Would you tell me?"
"I always doubt myself for not being as capable as everybody else is." I narrowed my eyes and nodded again.
"Capable? Of what? Please explain." He seemed quite interested and readjusted his position to keep his right leg on top of the other. Just like models do it.
"Of having anything that anybody in this world has. I just don't feel... like I'm supposed to be loved by someone. I don't trust people. It seldom happens that I befriend someone. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
"Okay then; tell me what you understand. You know what I mean right? C'mon tell me." I was acting hyper. Why wouldn't I? I just don't like to talk about myself and when I finally do and people don't get me, I get really furious.
"I get it, really. And I'm here just to help you with that."
"I don't want your help. I don't want anybody's help."
"But I suppose you're here for help."
"Oh do you really think it's like that? I'm not here because I need your stupid help. I'm here because my Dad dragged me into this session thing of yours. I'm not even interested in how you plan to help me." I was blistering with my words but my voice was still kind of normal, not loud at all but definitely stern.
"I can understand... But we got to pass time. So I think you might want to talk about yourself. You can tell me about your story."
"It's not a story. It's real. It happened with me." I grimaced.
"Tell me whatever it is. I'd really love to know." He gave me a smile through the corner of his lips.
"But I don't want to. I just want to die, why don't you get it? I don't want anything to get better."
"Everyone deserves healing Miss Anderson."
"But what would I do after I get healed. I'm just going to be more vulnerable to things that are going to come my way in future. I'm going to be okay for a moment but then after some time I will be the same and... and what if I die. Hmm? What if I die or get hit by a bus because I won't be able to do anything after that. No healing. No vulnerability. It's just going to be my dead body and complete loneliness. Some people would come to my grave... sometimes. Some would just remember me for who I was. Some will forget me and that is what I fear the most. I'd be lost in oblivion one day. Even if I get famous, people would stop remembering me after some time."
"So you fear oblivion-"
"No!" There was a pause. "I fear losing people. I just don't like it when people die for no reason and we have to live with the fact that they're never coming back." I was loud, I suddenly realized it.
"It's good that you know what bugs you and that's just a natural-"
"Ahh!" I shouted out but not too loud. My face wrinkled and I closed my eyes. "I'm getting irritated. You're not helping me."
"Okay. How about talking about me? Would you like to listen to something?" He wasn't annoyed at all, I was surprised.
I still didn't say anything.
He got up from the sofa and brought the tea tray in his hands. He was so old that I could hear the cluttering of the cups. "A long time ago, in December, I went on a holiday trip with my son and my wife. He was just seven years old and my wife..." He took a deep breath and placed the tray on the table between us. "She was really beautiful." He smiled while saying this. "We were in LA and one night, we decided to go for a walk." He poured the tea into two cups and placed one of them in front of me. "It was a Sunday and my son wanted to have an ice cream so we'd taken him to the best ice cream parlor that one of my friends had suggested me to go to."
He took his cup in his hands and I looked in his eyes. It was like he was remembering something that's very painful. His face tightened and his eyebrows wrinkled.
"We heard some noise outside. I was paying the bill so Sophie... my wife, went outside to see what was happening. All I can remember is that there was a woman outside with a gun in her hands and when Sophie went outside... She got shot right in the middle of her chest. And... My son who had grown up to be my constant support died in an accident last month."
I was shocked. I felt as though my face was in front of a heater. I was burning all through my body and my heart beat rose quickly. His wife and son died?
"I... I'm sorry." I finally said something that could comfort him.
"It's okay. That's life. And by the way, I am your psychologist; not you."
I smiled a little.
"Is she in jail, the woman who shot your wife?"
"I don't have any idea. But I suppose she didn't do it on purpose. I could see it in her eyes that it was just a... big mistake."
"How do you deal with it? The loss and everything."
"See, loss is a part of our life. You can't ignore it. But you can definitely deal with it. It's completely up to you. Nobody can teach you to be happy, right? You have to discover it on your own. All I can do, or anybody can do, is to guide you and talk to you as your friend."
I took my cup of tea and sipped it.
"There are going to be many things in life that will put you down and just make you feel like you can't do it anymore. But you got to move on. For instance take me as an example. I've had a lot. But I never let it affect me. I took life as it is and I constantly kept telling this mind of mine that it's all going to be okay. I've got this life for a reason and I'm not going to waste it. So should be with you. Share your feelings with people and communicate with friends or family." I was looking at him without blinking as he spoke again with a pause, "Don't forget the people you have with you just because someone is gone."
"I have to say something." I interrupted him in the middle of his rewarding speech. "There's this problem with me. I can't talk to people. I hate any kind of communication with people I know." I was slower now.
"Why is that?" He asked and took a sip from his cup.
"Because people are crazy. Everyone will judge you for everything you tell them. They will make different lists of people and they're going to put you in one of them. They're going to label you according to their absurd mentality. I'm not someone who wants to be labelled as something, now do I?"
"I can understand what you're trying to say but if you don't trust people and just test things out, how will you be able to know if what your thinking is true or not?"
"But..." I narrowed my eyes as I was left speechless. It's true. I've never even tried to talk to someone.
"For instance think about an apple..."
"Yeah yeah yeah... You don't need to get deep with that. I understand." I made a face.
He paused for a few seconds as he could see that I was trying hard to gather chunks of my memory.
"Okay. I'll tell you something. But you have to promise to not tell anyone, alright? I have seen those nasty therapists who snitch on little children to their parents. I want it to be extremely confidential. Okay?" I agreed to open up in front of him thinking that he might ease my life by his suggestions.
"Okay. I'll help you out with it." He promised. He sat bent lower with his arms resting on his knees.