We Can Have Insomnia Together

truth painfull truth

Tonight I'm not in my bed, enjoying the darkness like I always do, tonight I'm in the room with colored walls and medical diplomas. Tonight I'm having midnight therapy with him, my doctor, Dr Cole. he’s a nice man, my age, maybe five years older or so, I know he wants to help me, that’s why on the days he has to see me, he tries to keep himself awake from midnight to dawn, apparently, he learned from who knows who, that those are the only hours I'm willing to talk to someone. I admire his persistence; none of my other doctors have been as headstrong as he has.

“Marcie do you know why you are here?” he asks like in every session, I think I've been seeing him for a couple of days, or perhaps weeks, I don’t remember, time seems to pass different when Daniel isn't around.

At first I don't answer, maybe it's because I want to annoy him, get him to leave, but since he's not giving up on this, I open my mouth at last “because I have chronic insomnia” I repeat mechanically “I could hurt myself and those around me if I don’t get fixed”

“Mar we've been trough this" he insists on calling me Mar, lately I've stopped minding, he wouldn't stop even if I asked very politely "yes you have insomnia, but that isn't the real reason you are here” Dr Cole’s eyes are green, friendly, patient, understanding, everything my family was not when they dumped me in that place, I look back at him, and nod, maybe if I tried to talk, really talk, he will care enough to leave me alone in my misery.. “And you know it don’t you Mar”

“You drink too much coffee, if you really wanted to keep awake” I say dodging his question and tracing one finger around the rim of his coffee mug “you would take an energy drink, those work like heaven”

“Of course Mar," he patronizes massaging his temples "I will do that next time, now tell me, why do you think you are here?"

"Because you wanted to talk?" again I pretend I don't know what he's talking about, but he's a shrink, he never gives up right?

"I mean here, in a psychic ward, when we both know, you are not crazy” He raises an eyebrow and takes the coffee mug from my hand, lifting it to his lips, which makes me feel oddly calm, comforted even, by the mere gesture.

“I’m here because I don’t talk” I reply robotically, because I've said the words many times “because I feel lost, and I don’t talk, or move, when the sun is up, it freaks people out, so they want to fix me”

“yes, that’s the reason you were admitted here” he says adjusting his glasses “but not the real reason, not the answer we both know you have, now please, I’m asking you as a friend, a person you have come to trust, why are you here?" He is right I do know the real reason I’m there, but I don’t want to say it out loud, so like in my other sessions, he continues, “you still talk to him every night don't you?” he says disappointed, he was trying to teach me self control when he gave me that cell phone to keep, actually he’d been trying to get a reaction, something different from the blank stares at the wall I used to give the other psychiatrists.. "Don’t you want to get better?"

“I miss him Dr Cole, I don't want to get better if it means I'll lose him” I say opening my mouth and for the first time in our sessions expressing real emotion “I miss him so much it hurts”

“it’s Lucian, Marceline, and you know that you need to break the habit, for one reason or another, you and Daniel aren't together anymore, you should mourn that, feel that, embrace the hurt, anything would be better than denial” Dr Cole, um, Lucian, glares at me pointedly and I wince.

“It’s not denial” I hiss and Dr Lucian raises an eyebrow, I slump in the seat and try to explain

"Then what is it?"