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On the Inside though, people do know me. Maybe some of them I haven’t talked to personally, but still. They know I’m one of them.
So far, Annie, Lisa, Roger, a few other patients, and a couple of nurses, along with Hunter and Beth, they all have come to wish me good luck for the life on the Outside.
Ellen from the reflections group has come to hug me and tell me how proud of me she is. Hers was the group where I confessed my lies and accepted the fact I do have suicidal ideation, and that I’m a fighter.
I’m the chosen one, you see.
We all are. We’re the ones who choose to fight. Every single day. Every single moment.
We don’t give up when thoughts get dark. We don’t give up when meds don’t work. We don’t give up when our inner demons overpower the demons on the outside.
We don’t give up. Period.
We choose to be more than our illness and yes, it’s hard. And it’s fucking unfair. But when is life ever fair? You make the best of what you’ve been dealt and we’re here because every single one of us wants to be the best that we can be.
Until six weeks ago, I never would’ve even thought of being here. But now, I don’t want to leave. It’s like I’m going to leave my family, a different, quirky family and all I want to do is break down and cry.
Will he come for me, if I do that? Will he look at me then, if I sob and wail?
Just the fact that I’m contemplating crying so he pays me some attention proves that I’m borderline psychotic.
But I do want to do that, psychotic or not. I do want to make a scene, start a commotion so he’ll come for me. Maybe even keep me here, locked up.
Because I want to know what happened.
What the fuck happened?
Everything was fine – well, everything was broken because he hadn’t confessed his feelings for me or given me any indication of what the future holds for us, but still, things were fine.
I thought we were making progress. Every time we talked; every time we fucked; every time he took care of me, it made me feel that we came that much closer. I thought he’d say something before I left. Or at least give me his phone number or some clue that he still wanted to be in touch with me on the Outside.
Anything.
But then one phone call about Claire and everything just shattered.
Like always, I’ve analyzed it to death and I think this must have something to do with his old job. I’ve always known something’s eating at him and this must be it. Well, besides the fact that his mom killed herself. No wonder he’s so cold and seemingly unemotional.
But that doesn’t stop my devastation. It doesn’t stop me from being sad and angry that I meant so little to him.
Before I can drown in my head, Josie finds me, and we chat for a little bit. She tells me again how proud she is of me and I tear up, thanking her.
Then I remember something. “Oh hey, I, uh, forgot to thank you for the books.”
“What books?” She takes a bite of her cake.
“Harry Potter. I can’t believe you actually listened to me. Thank you for that. Though you didn’t have to get like, a hundred copies and dedicate an entire shelf to them. But you know, I’m not complaining.”
She’s frowning. “I didn’t do anything.”
“What?”
“I don’t handle books. Or stuff like that.”
“You must’ve said something to someone? To Beth?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I didn’t say anything. Maybe you should talk to her. She and Dr. Martin, they’re the ones who handle stuff like that. Well, now it would be Dr. Blackwood.”
“Dr. B-Blackwood?” I ask in a squeaky voice.
“Yeah. Since Dr. Martin isn’t here right now.”
“Right.”
She smiles and turns away from me to talk to someone else. Or maybe it’s me who turns away. I can’t say.
I can’t say anything right now. I don’t even think I’m thinking right now.
Everything is a huge, giant mess in my head.
Simon ordered the books?
No.
Actually, Simon ordered a lot of books. A lot.
You guys should really do something about your library. There isn’t one Harry Potter book in there.
I did say that to him. A long time ago. The day he saved Annie. I was so impressed by that. I only said it to him because I wanted to hold on to my old ways. I was being stubborn while completely crushing on him.
Did he really remember it? Did he really, really buy those books for me?
I mean it could be Beth, too. But somehow, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe that she would order multiple copies of my favorite, favorite series – the series I’m basically an infomercial for; his words, not mine – and practically dedicate a corner for them.
