What do people think life is? Is it just me or does everybody think that it is just a load of crap which some dude, called god, took the credit of making? As a very tiny kid, I thought that my life would be better when I’d be ten but nothing happened. Then I thought my life would be better when I’d be fifteen, and guess what? I learned something: A wish never comes true, and hopes are always hopeless. Now I don’t think much about living a good, lovey-dovey life. It is just like it has to be. Living a life means spending half of your day at school, eating, sleeping, waking up and doing your homework and, again, eating and sleeping. This is a normal life which I still don’t have; the kind of life a lay-person has. I just sometimes want to elope with real-good person named life and never come back. But the truth is always bitter.
I am a not-so-normal 15 year old girl who lives with her dad and not-so-gay-but-gay 19 year old brother and some person dad married who calls herself my stepmother. My mother died a long time ago after which I had to visit an old-aged temporary therapist (because my dad insisted), who eventually became my permanent therapist (until she died), daily, because of depression. I secretly ate depression pills and it made me feel extremely good. It’s not like I’m addicted to drugs. I just take it as it is prescribed on the bottle. But still, my not-so-gay-but-gay brother, instead of stopping me, calls me a drug addict and blackmails me for not telling his gayness to dad. I always thought if that’s the life I had to be stuck with forever. My life is just like that of any other lonely geek girl who likes to do all the weird stuff ans so people try to avoid having social contact with. I’m all like the geek girl. Except I’m not geek. One day at school I was actually surprised when a girl came and talked to me, asked my name, and all, and of course, she was a new girl. I was still surprised because most of the people, even the new ones, don’t even bother to look at me. But my life still went on sitting like a lonely tree after she got to know what I did.
Suddenly, the pictures dwindle away from my eyes, replacing itself with the view of the closed room with several quotes hung on the turquoise wall, dragging me back to present.
“Ruby? Do you want to leave this question? It’s okay if you want to,” Ritvik, my therapist, said, breaking my thoughts.
Oh my god. How long have I been thinking?
I closed and opened my mouth not knowing what to say. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, “What was the question?”
“It wasn’t actually a question-”
“Spit it” I said cutting him off, a bit rudely, I think. He stayed quite for a while, I mean who won’t be. His long face flushed red. With his long fingers, he calmly adjusted his specks and stammered, “No-nothing just… How-how’s everything; how’s life?”
Oh… that’s why I was thinking about it. I completely forgot. “Oh. It’s nice. I’m sorry if I responded really late. It’s just my train of thoughts keeps moving.”
“It’s alright. I’m happy you were taking your time to reply. You just took ten minutes less than before.”
I smiled, “Think before react thing right?”
“Yes,” he said approvingly as he shuffled through my file; a file about me. “Let’s not waste your time now. Let’s do a little talking- So, summer holidays are ending. What did you do this week?”
I thought for, maybe, another ten minutes because I didn’t want to tell about my visit to the medical store, again and then buying another bottle of depression pills because that’s the only thing I did this week including lying on the bed and watching the episodes of “Friends” on my laptop. God! I’m boring! “Nothing interesting”
