Diary of Realities

Realities? (1)

The days could be worse, or worst. But welcome to another reality where my mom keeps worrying about me. Keep in mind, this is the reality number 2. Today, yes, typical one; freaking therapy.

The doctor approaches me as i mumble my self due to the boredom, i wish i can go home and watch TV and eat pizza we have limited time to watch. That would be a great idea other than seat here for few hours and answer some random typical questions like i'm a pyscho. Frankly, i'm not.

"So Jacob, Jake isn't it?" He asks. The doctor walk back and forth searching for files about me. Why doesn't he keep it separate by other thousands files of mentally disorder kids? Is it able to make him easier, isn't it? But thats fine, the worst is its a new year 1989 and he keeps talking to himself making some speech that i agree none of us will understand. Stupid, yes of course i'm Jacob. Obviously, he recognizes me i always go here twice a week. I nod as sarcastically as i could. I keep quiet, to be seen as a cool guy even though i'm a weirdo at school. Sometimes they call me a hottie freak which i don't get the point all of those piece of shit. And yes, i just learned swearing. I'm 18.

"Jake, be nice at him" my mom says. Well, do i have to be that polite to him? Well that must be awkward if i may speak frankly. I don't want this guy to be a pedophilia or something like that. It became a trend.

"Hi?" I say . He laughs with the french laugh i believe and his giant spectacles which make me bored all the way get in to this hell. He asks the same questions as 5 years ago some ridiculous questions as if i'm a completely autism and mental disorder guy. In fact, i get sick. That's it.

But let me tell you, my mom avoided me to imagine and think anything which for her are bullshits and nonsense at all. The truth is, welcome to the reality number 3, Jacob's world. You can see sunsets, some types of art world where monuments and great inventions of sweet sweet architecture are there and in that reality i can travel just for a second. It sounds weird but just saying, i wonder you guys want that also right. Want a food? Snap your fucking fingers hell yeah doritos are arrived for just half a second. is that even a possible but it is. See? I don't need therapy. My realities are not even stupid, it called a wish. If i may say like that i would. I need reality number one, i haven't gotten it up until now. not yet, i'll get it as soon as possible.

"Jacob, don't do that again" my mom says as we walk trough the car.

"Do what? I don't do anything unless you tell me to answer those same questions" i say.

"Honey, we just want you to be fine" she says.

"I'm fine mom, look at me, at least they put me on group A, not B" i say. My mom rolls her eyes. And yes, talking about groups, my school is a private organization for disabilities and sickness. Group A for me, mental disease and physical disabilities like my good friend, Sam, she's 16 and she lost her left leg during a plane crash thing and ended up in this private boring school. It is not a perfect and modern technology these days. And last but not least, group B. Some sort of more depression tragedy; cancer, tumor, and other bad sickness. If i may speak, i feel lucky at group A, we're just in the same school as public teenagers as i am, we go out, to the pub and stuffs. I had date Theresa before we turned into enemies. She's a hot chick.

"Jake? Jacob! What did i tell you honey? Stop day dreaming and live your own life" she says.

"What? do you want me to socialize with you?" I asks.

"Jacob!" She says with a high tone signaling i'm out of the line. She tells me to live my own life i did. People live their lives in different ways.

"It's called reality mom" i say.
"Some sort of lives are based on what realities they made" i add.

"Oh sweetie don't start" she chuckles.