𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙 - e.d. [ completed ]

Five

Emma

I sit in the waiting room quietly.

I didn't ask to be here, but to police and social securities are obligated to assign a person like me a psychiatrist.

I've been going here for the past two months. I've tried missing it a couple times, only to find that next session I would get more questions I didn't want to answer.

I looked at these sessions as pointless. I barely spoke at these, all of the questions too hard or just hitting to close to home for me to answer, and even when I did, I would lie.

Completely pointless, if you ask me. A huge waste of money and time. The fact that grandma had to pay more money for me, infuriates me. I don't even want to come here, and she has to pay for these.

She continues to insist money isn't a problem, but I don't want to see her spending her life-long savings on me.

"Mrs. Clive?" I see my psychiatrist, Dr. Quinn looking at me, standing at the door of her office. "Come in sweetie, let's talk." she says nicely and I pick up my bag, off the chair beside me, and follow her into the room.

"So, how have you been? You feeling any better?" she asks the same questions as always in the beginning of our session, as I sit down on the soft leather futon.

I shrug faintly, in reply. I didn't want to talk about my problems, I barely spoke to them to grandma, why would I talk about them to a stranger?

"Okay, so lets start of today different okay? I'm not going to ask you any hard questions, let's just get to know each other. Maybe you'll feel more trusting and more open about this whole thing after, okay?" she puts down her small notebook and pen, and crosses her legs, sitting down. I sink further into the soft futon but nod.

"Okay so, what is your favorite color?" she asks a simple question.

"Uh, red." I say, unsurely.

"Great! I like red too, as you can see," she says, pointing to her red blouse. "But my favorite color is actually blue." she adds. "Next question. What are your hobbies? Do you have any?" she asks leaning forward, leaning her head onto one of her arms, as if she's ready to hear anything and everything I say.

"Not really?" my small voice comes out as a question, I sound very insecure. I didn't mention my drawing, because I didn't think of it as much of a hobby. I'm not really good at it either, half of the stuff I draw, I end up crossing over it. "I didn't really have time for hobbies." I add. To be completely honest, between having to go to school, take care of my mother in all of her frail and fatigue state, then having to study and then make it trough the night alive, and safe, I didn't really think much about my own interests. I would only draw when my dad was on a business trip, and those were very rare. So I rarely got to do anything for myself.

"You never liked to draw, or sing, or play any sports?" she asks. I shake my head.

"Okay, then how about we try and get you a hobby, hm?" she hums and smiles. I furrow my eye brows as she stands up and gets a piece of paper, a book and a pen. She puts the book underneath the paper and hands me it, along with the paper.

"Okay, try drawing something. Anything you want." she says.

I didn't know what to do. All I've been drawing lately is a figure hanging off a tree. And I didn't want her to have an insight into that part of me.

So I just sat there and stared at the blank piece of paper. I glanced up at her a few times, and she was watching me intently, especially my hand that kept going up to the paper and back into my lap, not knowing where to start.

I didn't even notice nearly all of our session time flew by until Dr. Quinn sighed and smiled at me reassuringly.

"I know you had some hard things to deal with, all
of your life. Somewhere along the way you must have forgotten this is your life, and you need to take control of it. Until our next session, please try looking into your future, what you want to be, want to become, draw something, or even write if you want. Try finding something that you like and focus on that, okay?" she says, when we both get up.

I left the small building, feeling better about this whole psychiatrist thing, but not better about myself.

Because to be completely honest, I don't see myself having a future.

All I see myself as is that figure, hanging off a tree.

---

This is making me sad.