Disasterology (perrentes)

chapter 9

May 26

I was staring out of the window. Only because the birds were chirping. The wind was shaking the branches of the trees. Everything was serene. Peaceful. You could smell the faint smell of salt from the nearby ocean. The sun was out today. It illuminated the entire window-filled building.

"Mike!" Gaskarth exclaimed, bringing me back to reality. Oh yeah. Therapy.

"Oh, uh, yeah?" I stuttered out. I didn't mean to zone out, but something was compelling me to stare out the window instead of listen.

"I was asking you how you were adjusting," he smiled. Sort of, if you would call that a smile. He kind of just slightly raised the corner of his mouth.

"Okay, I guess," he started writing what I said. He seemed to be writing a lot for three words.

I felt him staring at me as I stared out the window. Neither of us spoke. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I swear I felt the wind. The same wind that I felt at home. The kind of wind I would feel walking out of the school after failing another math test.

I broke the silence with a simple question, "Do you think I would be better if I knew how to bisect an angle?" He didn't reply, so I continued, "I feel like I would be. Although I can't blame myself too much for not knowing, after all, my geometry teacher was actually a physics teacher. The school couldn't hire another math teacher, I suppose. I don't know, I just have this feeling in my gut that bisecting angles would help me." I never once took my eyes away from the scenery outside the window.  Not once.

I could hear the faint scratch oh his own on paper. I think I'll never truly understand how he got so much out of so little. It was kind of baffling, really.

"Would you like a tutor to come and teach you?" he asked.

I glanced over to him without much interest, only to look back out the window. "So you don't know either? I suppose that makes me feel better, Doc. You've done a good job today."

"Michael, you're distracted. Any reason why?" I just knew he couldn't take a compliment.

"There's all this world outside, right? A-and I could have missed it, which is somewhat of a scary thought, ya know? I mean, I don't think if I had succeeded it wouldn't have quite been a bad thing. Back then I then I was just as scared to see things as I am not to now. Does that make sense, Doc? I hope it does, but you'd probably understand either way. You're smart like that. I kinda envy you for it, but you yourself don't seem too happy about it."

"That's very good, Mike, very good," he said with a peaked interest. Good, maybe now we can have a normal conversation. Maybe not though, he does seem like the "only business" type.

There was a pause in the conversation, if that's what you'd call it. There was a pause though. It lasted for minutes and I think it was because neither of us knew what to say to each other. I've never been to therapy before and I really wasn't into the whole share your life story thing so that's probably a contributing factor. There's also him, probably surprised by my talent of avoidance.

"What did you want be when you grow up, before you became depressed? What was your goal?" he questioned. Gaskarth was still writing something down. I didn't even say anything.

"I was never really sure. When I was a kid I wanted to be a writer though, I always thought that would be fun. Then, I get into high school and failed every assignment in english and I decided maybe writing just wasn't for me. It was kind of discouraging, but hey, what can you do?" my voice faded out at the end of my answer. It was really discouraging because that's really all I wanted to do. I moved on to different things like marijuana and dealing light drugs.

"Why did you let that stop you?" In honesty I wasn't quite sure wha to say here. I had never really thought about it for longer than a moment.

"I guess," I paused. I really didn't know what to say but continues anyways, "I guess, it's because everything is based off of something," Gaskarth stopped looking at me and started writing, "like, I can't get into a good college because I don't have good grades in high school and if I don't have some fancy degree, no one will take me seriously as a writer or anything really. Or, maybe I gave up on that dream. I'm not sure."

"It sounds like you have up on yourself, Mike," he stated simply. I snorted. How cheesy.

"Sure, if that's how you'd like to put it. I gave up on myself. I think it's more like the world gave up on me. That sounds a bit conceited and ridiculous, I know, but it is how I feel."

"I'm not making judgements, Mike. I just want to know what's going on in your head," he said in a tone I could only describe as 'doctor voice'.

"That sounds creepy, ya know? What if I don't want you in my head?," I joked. He didn't seem impressed. "Well, fine. If you want to get straight to business, I feel like a mess. Everything is a mess. I don't know how else to describe it really. I mean before I did the thing that I did, I felt really sad. Not just sad, like sad, and now? Everything just feels messy," I confessed.

"There's been good progress today, Mike. Be proud of yourself, you're on a great path to recovery," he smiled whilst closing his notebook.

"Okay, cool," I stood up from my chair and began to make the distance to the giant wooden door leading to the hall where Tony and I broke the window.

"Wait, before you leave, can you answered me one simple question?" Dr. Gaskarth called out.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I turned around as I reached the door. My hand slowly released its grip of the doorknob while I waited for his question.

"Can you tell me what you tried to do to yourself?" he held a serious look on his face.

I knew exactly what he meant but I asked anyways, "Wh-What?" It seemed as though words were failing me at this point. I felt shaken right to the core and all he did was ask me a question.

"The night of April 12, what did you do?"

At that point, I ran out of the door. I ran through the halls, passed Jaime, passed people I didn't even recognize, until I had reached a dead end. It was a dark hall, with a few doors here and there. I found myself sitting against one of those doors. I just saw with my legs pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around my knees. I didn't even notice I was shaking until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

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I never read too many books or anything, but there's this one quote from an F. Scott Fitzgerald book that's always stuck with me, "suddenly she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost last but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be." I think it describes everything about my situation then, and even now, perfectly.

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hey. I know, I know. it's been forever. I do apologize for that, but life happens. I'll try to go back to weekly updates after this