"How's the life of Lindsay?"
Burn in hell. "Fine. Just fine."
"She recently got nominated to be in a program for a week! Its for Douglass College, the one with the Women's Career institute." My mother rambles, putting a hand on my jeaned thigh.
I stare at it. Time to put on a show. Smile, everyone! "Yeah, I have to fill out all this crap, though. Only one girl can get in from each school, so I'm not entirely sure I'll get in." My therapist smiles.
"Why is that?" Stupid woman. You should figure it out. Don't you know these are the questions people hate? You just ask, 'why why why' and it doesn't help at all.
"Oh well, you know. Alot of the girls are from Honors to Advanced placement and all. I'm just...Average, you know?"
"Have you been nervous about it?"
Yes. "No, I'm just taking things in stride." Mom smiles. The couch suddenly becomes quicksand, its plushy exterior getting unbearable.
"Hows life other than that?"
Its like it is everyday; no hope, no one waiting at the light of the tunnel. Even God's given up on you, probably too busy for your sisters and friends and the like. You know, important people. "Its good!"
"Hows that boy?"
Mom puts on a 'yes, do tell' smile. I want to rip it off her face and strangle her with her own flesh.
"The boy from England?"
"Yes." Therapist smiles, uncrossing her legs. I smile back.
Well, to be honest; British boy wants to date prettier girls. You know, ones who aren't over 3,000 miles or so away. Oh yeah, and he thinks its a shame you can't change yourself because if you did you'd be pretty much anorexic. Hm. Doesn't sound too bad at the moment. "Oh, hes good. You know, hes going into the video game industry." I smile. I'm getting good at this.
"Thats great! College?"
"Not sure, I forget the name." Now that part's true.
"Friends? How are they?"
Ha. Hahahahahahaha. Ha....Ha. Leaving you in the dust as they go on with their lives, not realizing how you can't really see anything but darkness anymore? You put on fake smiles and laugh because it makes them happy. You don't want them to hate you, or worry about you. You must do this.
Must must must. "Good, good. My friend just got a boyfriend, hes a nice guy."
"His name's Matt. I told Lindsay to ask his brother to prom, but apparently he doesn't want to. Actually, it was more the fact hes home schooled and is really immature, right?" Mom looks to me.
"Yeah."
"So how's the family?"
I shrug, and turn to mom for this one. She gives me a look like, 'go on, this isn't my therapy session.' ******** that. This is more a 'Lets let the stupid girl with her stupid emotions come here for the lulz' session. I nestle into the couch more. "Its like it usually is."
Therapist clicks her pen. "How so?"
If you stare at her wrinkles long enough, you can make shapes into them. Like one of them looks like...A wave crashing into another wave. Heh.
"Well, just...Normal, I guess." Mom takes over, making hushed tones about how Caitlyn is getting married to a b*****d and how Hayley will meet her birth mom this summer.
"Fred's just Fred, taking everything as a normal pace. Though hes been worried about his family of course." When she means that, she means Grandmom and Grandpop, and his two screwed up brothers.
"And how's Penny?" Good. Mom can talk now. I look down at my nails, the cheap nail polish chipping from its week stay. I chip more off, and the nail looks like its peeling off with it, too. The thin layer, I mean. But if I dig hard enough, I could rip off the nail, making it turn into a hang nail. Those are a pain.
Like life.
Heh...Life is like a hang nail. You can either let it run its course and let it fall off on its own, or rip it off and end it right then and there.
I like ripping them off.
"Right, well. It looks like we can stay on the same dose of Paxil. You're doing good on the 40 mg, name brand, right?" This is the part where mom tells her to get name brand, because whatever other brand it was is too expensive and doesn't work anyway. Therapist lady looks up at me once more. "No anxiety attacks?"
Yes. Lots lately. But you're going to lie, right? This way mom can trust you more and not blame anxiety attacks for keeping you in. "No, not since we bumped up the perscribed amount." Yup. Good job.
After mom and I get in the bug to go home, I start to talk. This is the method I've improved on for years, saying how you think that the therapist was right when 'blahblahblah' was mentioned or how you liked that she said 'blahblahblah.' And mom would nod and agree as well.
"So where do you want to go to eat?" Eating was the enemy. Eating makes people fat. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of chick who eats everything in sight, but I get so paranoid at what I eat that it becomes a chore to eat.
"Anywhere they can provide a healthy meal." I answer, and look out the window. Mom scoffs and mocks me. She hits my thigh gently.
"You don't need to get paranoid over that. You remember what the doctor said? Dr. Morgallo?" Dr. Morgallo was my Vietnamese family doctor. She said if I lost weight, it'd prove deadly. She said I was the same hieght and weight for 4 years now. But what did she know? She didn't have to wake up in the morning to a deformed teenage body that looked like s**t no matter how hard you tried to make it look pretty.
"Right." I stare down the cars that move past us on the highway. Strange. It always looks like they're going in slo-mo, but they're actually going at a much higher speed. Unless you see a speeder going past you. Then it actually does look like they're Speed Racers.
"No homework, right?" Mom breaks the small silence. I look over and nod, but she doesn't see.
"I got it all done." I could do the vocab in the morning. I had a study period, and if I blocked out noise I could get it all done within twenty minutes.
"Good. Ah, crap buddy...Why did you take my spot...?" Mom whines about the car that just pulled up. The license plate was from Philly. I stared at the Calvin bumper sticker, peeing on the Green Bay Packer's logo. Another one was an Obama 09' bumper sticker, and the other had a Hawaiian purple flower outlined in white. I looked back over to the right window, a silver Subaru. On the antennae was a mickey mouse head with the words 'Disney World' on it.
Jeez, who didn't have those??
The guy in the car looked like a trucker, and an old woman sat beside him. I averted my attention to the front of the car again, pressing the radio to break the silence.
It was some country song, the guy bellowing out, 'Keep on Truckin', ya just gotta make that finish line so just keep on truckin'..." That was the chorus line.
But he didn't know you, now did he?
TakuniChan Community Member 
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