The Budding Roses

The Beast

Sunday 18th February
Insomnia crawls about me like a giant hairy spider that I'm unable to escape, unrelentingly laughing at my failure to sleep.
Mother says I'm bottling it all up, that I need to express my feelings, to let my anger flow, but there really is nothing to say. It's not like I didn't expect it from Natasha, it would be misguided to think otherwise, but Harry, admittedly, is a thornier issue.
It's like he's suffering from his own personal crisis, and just like me he doesn't know who he is anymore. Gone is his caring effervescence and in its place is a lost soul, disguising itself within an inconsiderate spiked cloak. If only he could have spoken to me about it, I might have been able to help him.
Enough of these thoughts, for I've already given too much of my life to those rotters, and now they're stealing away the soothing hours of sleep too; my one remaining sanctuary, the only place where I can forget.
I take slow breaths and focus, looking at the shape in the corner of the room, willing my eyes to remain open. For if I don't close them then maybe they will revolt and choose to do so for themselves.
Eventually as my left eye admitted defeat I forced the right one to keep going, to keep looking at the patterned shadow.

Monday 19th February
Dr Barker stared at me.
'Do you think I need counselling?'
'Oh no, I don't think so, it's nothing a few weeks off won't cure.'
'But I've got exams soon,' I argued.
'Well it's a good thing you'll be feeling better by then, especially if you take some of this too.' He scribbled on his note pad and handed me the prescription. 'Is there a problem?' Dr Barker queried, as I stared at the piece of paper, bemused.
'Well according to the British National Formulary, the drug you've prescribed cost 50 pence to manufacture, whereas Prozac costs £10. Is this the reason you prescribed fluoxetine instead of Prozac?'
'I prescribed you fluoxetine because it's an excellent drug, and is in fact the same as Prozac.'
'Well I'd still prefer Prozac please; my grandma swears by it, plus that's all you ever hear about famous people taking. I never heard of anyone taking fluoxetine.'
'This isn't some sort of fashion contest dear; choosing an anti-depressant is not like choosing a designer handbag. You will take whatever I choose to give you.'
'Okay, thank you Doctor Barker,' I gulped.
'Take care Miss Rose.'
'Next!' He bellowed as I left his office; the conveyor belt continuing, wheeling in the next socially damaged number.