Slowtown

22

I try to take myself away from my fuming thoughts when she asks, "Are you okay?"

I scrunch my eyebrows. "In general?"

"Sure."

"Not very."

"Me neither." She looks at me with something along the lines of pity combined with relief. No, it's understanding, that's what it is. She understands that we are similar in this way. "Are you hungry?" she sighs.

"No."

"Yes you are."

She moves away and grabs a banana off the counter, but before she hands it to me, the red light in my head goes off, signaling my mouth to begin complaining, "Bananas are gross."

"No they're not."

"Yes they are."

"No."

"Yeah."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh." I stick my tongue out at her. And she does it back at me, scrunching up her face.

"They're good!"

"I don't like 'em."

"Well I don't like you."

I laugh. "Me neither!"

I stop for a split second, wondering if self-deprecating humor is frowned upon by medical graduates. But her short laughs are real. Yes, we are similar.

She ends up letting me go without eating.

I'm laying on my couch, heavenly sunlight pouring in from a few windows. It's not bad here. But nothing about myself subsides. I still have the anxious nagging of I should be in school, and the unsettling feeling of everything suddenly becoming too easy. Look, if you're down there long enough, you get used to the darkness at rock bottom. I guess now you have to get used to getting over it.

Rock bottom. I've never imagined myself down there, I imagine it within myself. See? Hollow, dark, icy cold. Do you see? Invert the image and it makes way more sense. The reason I'm shit is because my insides are shit. I don't know how I live with myself.

I'm never going to get over it. I think the only way of doing that is breaking a hole in myself. And it kinda hits me, like, well there's your problem. Yeah, actually. Let the light in. Have I ever even tried? No, because I see the insurmountable darkness in myself and believe it would take so much more than my cracked bones and flaking skin and weak fists to punch a hole in that rock.

I'm an idiot, and I know it when I reel back my arm literally punch myself in the thigh. It hurt. Nice. Whatever.

I figure out that the slump I'm in is solely because I don't know what to do. Goddamn. I would've traded all my shitty days for this freedom, and now I dare say I'm bored.

But lo and behold! My prayers are answered with a knock on the door. I instantly guess it's Josh, who I kinda like. I hate everyone, so that's saying something. Actually, I'm partial to everyone I've met here. I don't particularly hate Lisa. I like Jenna. Not that I'd confide my deepest secrets in these people; I suddenly get a creeping feeling that's what I'll end up doing.

I heave myself up from the couch and lumber towards the door. Clutching and twisting the handle, I remind my mouth to keep my pessimism to myself.

Josh's bright smile breaks open into a delightful, toothy grin.

"Hey," I say, throwing some effort into a more or less cheerful tone. Go me.