It’s Friday already and I’m still locked up in my house, no phone, no internet, I can’t even go out to the store, I’ve basically only left my house to go to therapy and that’s it. Just twice in six days. Twice! I feel trapped and suffocated, the only things keeping me calm are the readings my therapist sent me, my meds, and the drawings she left me as assignments for the next session. If it wasn’t for those three things I would’ve already found the way to escape this place. Although, I can’t deny that they have been good distractions and that they have helped me to not think about Criss all the time, just hoping she’s okay and wondering if she thinks about me too.
I’m done with my reading and my drawing for the day and its only tree in the afternoon, I lay back on my bed and watch the ceiling, and I think about Cris, about her sad eyes and the last time I saw her, her frustration, about how it seemed she wanted to say more but stopped herself. Then, I think about her expression when my mother picked me up from her house, honestly if it hadn’t been because Cris insisted that I tell her where I was I wouldn’t have written her at all, but it was the way she asked me to do it, the way she told me it wasn’t the time for more problems, and she was right, but I still can’t let go of her expression when my mother arrived, as if she was… ashamed?
I don’t know, the truth is that lately I don’t know how much to trust what I see, how much of it is real and how much is only in my head. My therapist said that its normal, that when someone receives a diagnosis like mine its normal to start having those doubts and that the most important thing was that I speak to people around me, which would be a good advice were it not for the fact that I still feel that they are all keeping some huge secret from me.
Although, I really don’t know for sure. I don’t know if they are actually hiding something or if I’m imagining it all. All I know for certain is that I need to see her, or at least talk to her, send her a WhatsApp. Something! I growl in frustration and I turn around to throw myself in the bed and hide my face in the pillow, I can honestly say that there is nothing in the world that can lift my spirit right now.
“Joana, kiddo, I made some chicken milanese for you to eat something.”
I lift my head a little and I see my mother standing at my doorstep, holding a plate with the food and some potatoes. Maybe I spoke too soon about nothing being able to lift my spirit. I sit up and cross my legs, she approaches me and hands me the plate, warning me to be careful because its hot, once she makes sure I’m not going to drop it in the bed she turns around and inspects my bedroom.
“Kiddo, come on, open up your curtains, it looks as if it was always nighttime in here.”
Without waiting for me to respond, she opens up the curtains and, for my bad luck, the first ones she opens up are the ones closer to my bed and the light hits me straight in the eyes.
“Mom! Close it! Dammit.”
She closes them but opens up the ones farther away from my bed.
“Leave them like that, Joa, a little light will be good for you.”
“It would be good for me to not be locked up in here.”
She purposely ignores me and walks back to the bedroom door.
