Lost in July

XLIX

Collin

There's a missing piece of my brain, a necessary piece, that has plagued me since what feels like birth. Nobody could fix that or save me from myself. I'm too exhausted to keep trying.

I drop the pen from my now cramping hand, scowling at the words I've written.

How do you explain to the people you love that nothing they could ever do would help the hole inside your soul? No words could ever explain the emptiness of this feeling, but I have to try to make them understand. My parents, at least.

Margo understands. Her letter will be void of explanation, only clarification. Reminding her of my love. Letting her know that she is everything. Amazing in every way.

I need her to know that if I could be lost in her world forever, I'd stay. I'd stay right here and never leave. The problem is I can't be lost in her, with her. I can't be all Margo all the time, and it fucking sucks.

I throw my pen at the wall in anger. Sighing as I slam my forehead onto my arms. I rest against the desk, trying to take deep breaths.

I have therapy in ten minutes.

Maybe I can swallow all the pills before. Save myself the misery.

I'm holding off because I'm scared. Not scared to die, scared to hurt Margo. I love her so much, but love isn't enough. It never was.

I tuck the letters away and attempt to make myself look presentable. I run my hands through my hair until it doesn't look like a mess.

The nurse knocks on my door to tell me to get to my appointment. I resist the urge to slam my head against the wall until I pass out. Instead, I walk to the therapy wing and press the button.

Dr. Indy swings the door open, smiling as usual. "Come on in," he says hurriedly. We take our seats and go through the semantics. How am I, how are the pills working, blah blah blah.

I can tell I'm not doing a good job at hiding my emotions, but I'm even worse at it right now. With no medication regulating my emotions, I can't hide the very obvious dark circles forming from my lack of sleep. I can't hide my irritability and the withdrawal symptoms from my medication.

"You don't seem to be doing well, Collin. Have you been sleeping?" Dr. Indy asks.

I shrug. "I sleep. Here and there." A lie, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

I hope he doesn't blame himself for my... I hope nobody blames themselves. It's not any of their faults.

"What's going on with you lately? Have your pills been helping?" He scribbles in his notebook and I find it hard to believe he's writing real words.

I nod. "Yup. Doing great." Another lie. An obvious one.

Dr. Indy frowns. "If you're not open to therapy today, we can try something to ease your mind?" He offers.

I feel bad that he can notice my distaste for his job, but I don't feel bad enough. I hardly care. The portion of me that does is already tired of thinking about it, so I stop.

"I'm not open to much today, Doctor." My dry, sarcastic tone doesn't amuse him.

"Has something happened? An event to trigger your behavior?"