Pretend || m.c

Therapy

•Lacey•

6:00 AM - Wake Up

6:05 AM - Go Back To Sleep

6:45 AM - Get Back Up

7:00 AM - Eat (sometimes)

7:30-3:00 PM - Go To Hell (aka school)

4-6:00 PM- THERAPY

Journal Entry #1

Subject: Therapy

I'd like to start this off by saying I don't understand why we are doing this stupid project in the first place...but whatever floats your boat Tina. You know how they all say that therapy "helps you get better"? Yeah well that's not true. I honestly believe it just makes things worse. The I mean what's the point? All you do is sit in a circle with a whole bunch of other people with shitty, fucked up lives, and you talk about stuff that is going to make us even more depressed. I just don't see how that's supposed to help anyone. The only thing the say is that it'll get better, and we have to face our issues, because if we "believe that we will get better, it'll happen". Well what happens if I don't get better, or what if I can't face my problems? Then what happens? I'll be stuck in this shitty life of mine forever. Why don't they just tell us the truth. They should just tell us that we will most likely never get better and that we are cursed with this emptiness forever. I would much rather hear that than the same bullshit counselors tell all the messed up teens. The only thing that I even somewhat like about that place is my friend Gaby. She goes to my school and is in some of my classes. She's just as depressed and messed up as I am, if not even more. Somehow I find that comforting, because it makes me feel like there is someone else out there like me.

I'm currently sitting in math class waiting for the stupid bell to ring so I can get out of this prison of a class. Once the bell rings that means I'm free for next hour. Well I'm supposed to go to bio, but I haven't been to bio in forever. My teacher probably thinks I've fallen off the face of the earth. I usually just go and sit in my car and listen to music and occasionally smoke a cigarette. Finally 12:15 hits which means I'm free to go, until I have to come back inside and suffer the pain that is Calculous. I quickly pack my bag at the sound of the bell and run to my locker to get my jacket so I don't freeze my ass off as I venture through the parking lot to find my car. When I get outside i feel the sudden urge to smoke which makes my pace quicken by 10%. I eventually reach my car after walking what seemed like a fucking marathon. I open the door and immediately turn on the heater considering the fact that it is literally 40 degrees outside. Finally, I get to sit and relax. I turn on the new walk the moon album and think about all the shit that is going on at my school. (Who's dating who? who's preggers this week? Who got arrested this weekend? things like that) As I take a drag from my cigarette, my phone starts buzzing.

From: Gxby

Do you have room in your car for one more?

To: Gxby

Come join me

From: Gxby

On my way

After about five minutes there is a knock on my car window. I unlock the door and she sits down not saying a word. There is mascara under her eyes, her hair is a mess, and there are tear stains all over her cheeks. Which means she either just had sex in the janitors closet or she's upset about something...or both.

"You ok?" I ask offering her a cigarette. She takes the offer without hesitation, taking a cigarette and my lighter and sits there silently. I awkwardly brush off the question because it seems like I'm not getting an answer. Another three minutes go by and she finally decides to speak.

"Lets ditch" She says plainly.

"What?"

"Let's ditch. Lets go do something. Lets get out of this hell hole." She says.

"What would you like to do?" I ask curiously.

"Lets get high." She says still emotionless. Although there is something there. There is some sort of weird spark. I just nod my head and back out of the parking lot and drive to my house. After about 15 minutes of awkward silence between Gaby and I we arrive at my house and we run up my stairs and into my bedroom, locking the door. She pulls two blunts out of her purse and tosses one to me leaving the other one for herself. You can guess what happens from there. We get high. Duh. After two hours we are both back to normal.

"Hey we have therapy today" I remind her. She nods her head stating that she knows. "We should probably change so we don't smell like we work in a weed garden. I toss her some clothes. Me and Gaby being close to the same size in everything is helpful. I check my phone and realise what time it is. 3:50 PM. "Fuck Gaby we're gonna be late!" I say as I grab my journal and stuff it into my purse and run out of my room.

4:10 PM

Late. Just as I figured. I hate being late because when we walk in everybody stares at us like we just killed somebody or something. I sit down next to Michael Clifford. Sad boy. Crazy depressed and major anger issues. Gaby sits down next to me. He gave me that look. The look like I killed someone. News Flash buddy I'm not a murderer. He continues to stare for another few minutes.

"Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer" I say with a smirk.

"Glady." He says as he quickly snaps a picture. I look at him awkwardly and then quickly look away. "I'm Michael Clif-"

"Clifford. Michael Clifford. I know who you are. You're the one who lashed out on his dad." I say looking straight ahead.

"And you're the snitch who reads peoples files. You must be Lacey." He said.

"I didn't read your file smartass I just know things." I responded.

"You know things because you read my file..." What an Asshole.

"Nooo, I know these things because you are kinda known as the badass around town."

"Ok. Fair enough. What are you known as? The princess? The cheerleader? The barbie?"

"The slut. I'm known as the drunken slut."

"Oh so you're Lacey Conrad. You're like those girls on the corner of 15th street!" I'm about to lose it. My dad used to compare me to those girls. I hated it.

"Would you stop." I say with clenched teeth.

"Alright princess chill." He huffed.

"Don't call me that." I winced.

"Michael? Lacey? Are we going to have a problem here?" Tina, our counselor, said.

"No" we said simultaneously.

"We're gonna be just perfect." Michael said.