tenth ; why we fall apart

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"Do you have any mental illnesses that you are aware of?"

"Why don't you check the paper?" I spat. This session was not going well. The psychologist was a young woman who was soft spoken but clearly frustrated. Probably the worst possible match for me.

"You've been suffering from severe depressive disorder. Since," she looked down at her clipboard. "2012. And you're known to have suicidal tendencies?"

"Well duh."

"Grace, I'm going to have to ask you to be more respectful. I'm here to evaluate you and help you. Not make your life worse." She said, a hint of venom lacing her voice.

I shrugged, but removed my feet from the coffee table and sat up straighter, smoothing out my rumpled uniform.

"Yes, I am a depressed freak who tried to kill herself and my parents can't have someone like me around to continually ruin their reputation so they sent me here." I stared intensely at the woman. What's her name again? Who knows. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Are you on any prescription medication?" She said, skipping over my outburst like it didn't happen.

"Zoloft."

"And how do you feel about it's functionality?"

"Well I'm still here, aren't I?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line, jotted down some notes, and sighed.

"Grace, I'm signing you up for group therapy and one on one therapy sessions. Group therapy will be once a week and you'll meet with someone every day as well. We will take care of your prescription from now on."

"No. I refuse to go to therapy."

"It's not up for discussion."

"I know. I'm not going. End of hypothetical discussion." I kicked my feet off the table and despite her protests, pushed my way out of the room and let the door slam against the frame with a rumble.

The memories of my past came bubbling up like bile in my throat.

They never wanted me. But they couldn't get rid of me. I was a mistake. I ruined everything.

Brandon. I ruined him too.

My hands shook. I slid to the floor, breathing heavily, waiting for the waves to pass.

They never did.

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