Writing the first chapter was probably the easiest thing for me to do, considering I didn't have much context to give you.
Now as you read this, you may realize that I skipped the part where I gave my really inspiring speech. If I had to explain how my speech was, in a sugarcoated kinda way, I'd say it was beautifully horrible.
So now that I'm writing this, I finally realize how much there is that I have yet to tell you about. But don't worry I'm not going to talk about my self group again in this chapter. Why? Well because I don't feel like it. Now that I control this story, I think I should tell you about the time I tried to kill myself. Okay kids, gather around, it's story time.
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"It was a cold and rainy night-"
Too dramatic for you?
Ugh, okay then, let's start again.
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So, I got dumped. Wait, not just that. My parents split last year. I flunked my senior year at high school. And my best friend got arrested for selling weed to kids or something. (To be honest, I wasn't that sad about that last part, he was a dumbass anyway).
So yea, all that happened, and I was feeling pretty detached from everything, so I walked up to the bridge.
And, in case you are wondering, yes, I was high. Remember kids, don't do drugs. Who knows, you could fail a suicide attempt and land in a self help group.
Everything that happened in the next ten minutes was a blur. I remember going to the other side of the railing, then standing on the thin metal pipe that divided life and death. Another step and it would've been sweet salvation. But, because god hates me, two hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me back. At this moment, my legs were just about to slip, but with another strong pull the suicide patrol officers pulled me out and I fell backwards on the bridge side road, hitting my head on the hard concrete footwalk. Then, I passed out.
I woke up a couple hours later. I'm going to skip the part where the officers asked me questions about what happened. They were uninteresting and unintelligent questions that would, without a doubt, bore you to death. My parents were outside the room, the entire time. The officers told me that I had to talk to a psychiatrist before I could meet my parents. They took me in one of those basic rooms that you probably must've seen in a movie or something, the one's they use to trap ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶o̶r̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ mentally fucked people.
After a good fifteen minutes of me restlessly sitting in that crappy chair, the psychiatrist came in. She was a blonde, short lady with glasses. She looked like she was in her thirties or something. She had a sharp look on her face. The thing is, I like these kind of people. Let me just correct that, I like messing around with these kind of people. She started the session by asking me what was happening in my life. What did she even expect me to say to her?
"Yeah, nothing much, just tried to kill myself about a couple hours ago lol"
Of course I didn't say that, but that doesn't make her question any less dumb. Then the door behind me opened up to reveal one of the officers from before.
"Mrs. Kate, we need you to come downstairs for a minute", the officer said.
"Don't worry, I'll be there in a second", she replied.
Then she turned to me and said, "If I leave you here alone would you be okay?"
"If by okay you mean, not breaking the window behind you and jumping out of it, even though how tempting it sounds, then I guess you don't have to worry, I'll try not to." I replied.
She started looking at me like I was an alien or something. Then, without saying anything, she left the room. About thirty seconds later, the same officer came in and handcuffed me to my chair.
So yeah, that was the day I found out that, apparently, psychiatrists don't have a sense of humor.
