THERAPY

TARA

 6:10 am

Another day...

Another pointless, draining day...

The piercing tone of my alarm beeps into my ears. I grab it from my nightstand and dismiss it as fast as I can. Getting out of bed is physically the easiest task I have to accomplish but requires so much mental fortitude. I know exactly how my day will go and it's just so hard to motivate myself to repeat the same boring routine every day. I don't know the exact details but I know the gist; wake up, breakfast, school, back home, dinner, sleep and repeat. Sometimes I get into an argument with my mother or one of her no-good boyfriend's causes problems which gives me a break from the monotony but only for a moment. Mom always says I should be more positive about life, but how can I? I'm not suicidal, I just don't see the point in anything. Everything is so boring. Nothing exciting ever happens like in movies when the main character gets pulled into something that forces them to go on adventure after adventure. I want that. According to my therapist, Dr Eli Olsen (PhD), I am a thrill-seeker and get bored easily by a repetitive routine (I wonder how much of his PhD he used to figure that one out). One problem with his diagnosis, I don't 'seek' thrill. I want thrill to be handed to me. I want someone to grab me and force me into an unending adventure. But I'm not going to go out looking for said adventure. People might get the wrong idea and think I'm a capable human being. We can't have that now, can we?

My name is Tara Monroe. I am 18 years old, a high school senior and I enjoy long walks to my favourite coffee shop to buy cinnamon Dolce lattes with my dog, Reila. Other small details about me include the fact that my father was murdered when I was seven. It happened right in front of me but don't remember much (Olsen came up with the genius diagnosis of selective amnesia! That gosh darn PhD works wonders!). The killer got away because I couldn't remember what they looked like, resulting in the police being unable to track them down. I've been working with therapists and medical doctors to try and retrieve my memories since I was seven but nothing has ever worked. Most of them tell me that my memories will come back with time but it's been eleven years. Safe to say they're gone for good. And finally, I love to exercise. The burning sensation in my muscles and the feeling of accomplishment after I'm done is the only motivation I have to continue getting out of bed every morning. Speaking of which, it's time for my morning workout.

People think I am a health freak because I am physically fit. They think I exercise to stay fit but I couldn't care less about my physical health or how I look. I don't even eat healthily, most of the time I eat store-bought ramen with cola. Mom complains constantly because of my eating habits saying I'm 'destroying my body' but as I said, I couldn't care less. Maybe I would've listened to her if she spent more of her time being a parent instead of going on vacations with her boyfriends or travelling for business meetings (which I think is just her way of covering up the fact that she's travelling with a new boy toy). I'm almost always home alone. But despite her horrid excuse for parenting skills, I'm still one of the top-performing students in my grade. So much so that I have enough credits to graduate. I'm also on the varsity cheer team and the girl's basketball team (I guess I can see where Olsen's 'thrill-seeker' theory came from). There are only two reasons i' this active in school despite the whole me not wanting people to think I'm a capable human. Reason number one: Performing well in high school equals getting into a good college and getting into a good college equals escaping my mother's clutches. Reason two: when you don't show any effort in school it draws teachers' attention and sometimes they feel the need to 'help' by focusing more on you which is something I'd rather avoid. Contrary to the popular cliche about cheerleaders, I am not very popular. A good percentage of my grade hates me. I'm not exactly a social butterfly. Whenever I observe the other kids in school, I can't help but feel a little jealous. Everyone seems to find it so easy to connect with other people. Something as simple as a common interest in a bad movie series can result in a lifelong friendship. One friend is all I've managed. Her name is Minami but insists I call her Minnie (Yes... Like the mouse). I used to have two friends but life happened and I ended up with one.

A hot shower after my morning sets is another of the few things that motivate me to get up every day. I love the feeling of the tiny hot water droplets dancing down my skin. Most people like cold showers after working out but I hate cold showers. I won't shower with cold water even in summer. Showers are meant to be hot and that's that! Unfortunately, today the shower water is just warm which breaks my heart. I recall Dr Olsen PhD (Can't forget to add that PhD. He never does) saying that the reason that I love hot showers is that they 'mimic the warmth I'm supposed to get from being around others. In my opinion, he overanalyzed a statement I said in passing. I mean, he asked me to name something I love and all I could think to say was hot showers then he turned it into a whole 'thing'. When I'm around others, I don't feel 'warm'. I feel like I'm dragging myself around next to these people who are so full of life and energy. It feels like they syphon all the little motivation and willpower I do have out of me. I prefer being alone.

Another simple task that causes my brain several meltdowns is picking an outfit for the day. It's not like I'm interested in looking like a magazine model but I need to look presentable at least. Despite being aloof most of the time, even I have standards when it comes to the way I dress.

"TARA! You're going to be late! Why are you just standing around in the middle of your room in a towel? Get changed!" The angelic voice of my mother's dearest reaches my bedroom and sounds as if she's standing right next to me even though she's downstairs (I'm sure my eardrums only burst out of pure excitement). I guess I'll just go with a safe outfit, jeans and a slightly oversized button-up.

As I slip into the shirt I chose, my door flies open and in comes the mother of the year. "What did we say about knocking Mom?!" I complain. "Sorry sweetie, but I just don't want you to be late." With a wide grin, she gestures at me to hurry. "Mom, It's 7 am, school starts at nine," I tell her as I button up my shirt. "But don't you have cheer practice today?"

"Oh right. I forgot about that..."

Mom loves the idea of me being a cheerleader. I just joined because it's a great workout. Same reason I joined the basketball team.

"I'll be down in a second."

She removes herself from my room and shuts the door behind her. Her jolly attitude can only mean one thing, he is here. Mom's new boyfriend, Matt. He's lasted longer than any of the others but he is by far the worst and most annoying. He's always trying to 'get to know me' and 'bond', it's disgusting. That stupid peppy grin of his makes me nauseous. He is always trying to be involved in my life, playing dad like he has any business sticking his big fat nose where it doesn't belong.

He gets on my nerves.... If that wasn't already clear

Mom, however, believes he is Mr Right. She is head over heels in love with him and I have no doubt he loves her even more. I don't mind, but can't they just leave me out of it? I'm not interested in getting close to him or being one big happy family. Whoever mom chooses to be with won't be affected by my opinion, past experiences have proved that point countless times. She got this idea in her head that Matt's positivity might rub off on me. I'm not exactly a ray of sunshine but all Matt does is put me in a bad mood so he is not doing anything to make me any more delightful.

I stuff my cheer kit into my gym bag along with other essentials like shower gel and deodorant. After checking my mirror one last time to make sure I look halfway decent using dawdle out of my room with my school and gym bag. Reila meets me at the bottom of the staircase, wagging her tail, and I wrap my arms around her. We enter the kitchen together and, to my dismay, Matt's is the first face I see. "Hey, Kiddo!" He says. His voice pierces through my eardrums and my head throbs with irritation. I turn away to avoid further interaction and heave out a greeting. "Hey, Matt....". Without giving it a second thought, I make my way to the door. I wanted breakfast but seeing Matt caused me to lose my appetite.

"No breakfast today?" Mom pries, delaying my escape. "Like you said, I'm gonna be late," I explained "Come on Tara, you gotta eat someth-"

"-I'll get something at school." I interrupt before Matt can finish. He can't tell me what to do. He's just a stranger who has no right to force himself into my life. They're both rendered silent by my subtle outburst allowing me to finally escape. I race out the door and shut it behind me, not sparing even a second to look back at them. I pause outside for a moment and take a deep breath to extinguish my temper before starting my journey to school.

Another day, another draining, pointless, exhausting day.