2
"An ocean isn't an ocean without waves, nor is it an ocean without water. A heart isn't a heart without a beat, nor is it a heart without a body to live in. A child isn't a child without having somebody to hold them, even when they're too heavy to be held. A human being isn't a human being without having emotions, and so far, I don't have any. I'm as numb as the skin on my fingertips, and I'm okay with that. Or at least I'm trying to be."
Calum
"The test results came in this morning, and from what we have seen; you sir, are dealing with a major case of depression, as well as possibly suffering from PTSD."
"I'm not depressed," I laughed bitterly, clenching onto the bottle of antidepressants that my doctor prescribed for me, "5 pills over the course of a day is suicide. I'm fine."
Cheyenne (step mother) was waiting outside of the hospital with ten year old Daelyn. She's spent years claiming that I need to get checked out because my mental state isn't at the best it could be at right now, but I just think it's bullshit. I'm fourteen (nearly fifteen), but I know the difference between being insane and wishing you were insane. Living with parents who adopted you that act like you're somewhat of a disgrace because you see the world differently, isn't easy.
I don't know what I'm saying.
I never know what I'm saying.
When I was fourteen (and a half) and adopted, Cheyenne was the one person who promised herself and everyone else around her that I'd be the one she wanted to adopt. It was always something about being special, or that my eyes reminded me of her sons. Her real son.
That was the only slight connection I had with my step mother. Her son had a neonatal death two minutes after he was born. Cheyenne told me a couple of weeks later about him; how his name was Adrian. Sweet little Adrian didn't survive long enough to see the color of his mothers eyes or skin, or the beauty of the world.
Actually, the world isn't beautiful. It's disgusting. Everything just feels like magic; the pollution, the cars speeding down the city streets past curfew, the amusement park rides having the ability to have a certain capacity of weight, yet it feels unreal.
"Everything feels unreal. If there's something you see, or you thought you saw, and you want to touch it or taste it, but you can't, it feels like it's not there; like it doesn't exist. It makes you feel like you're on drugs, or everyone but you is intoxicated by some sort of poison, and you're just taped between two pieces of paper, trying to escape. But you can't, because it doesn't exist. Nothing exists, except for you and your imagination, which is the scariest fucking part about it all."
"How'd it go?" Cheyenne stated with eccentricity filling her voice. She genuinely cared, but I didn't want her to. I wanted the world around me to continue to feel like dust blowing with the wind, or to watch the skies as they remain grey and demoralized from the lack of a beautiful sunset. I've lost touch with peace, as my only friends are the smoke in the air that fill my lungs, and my dreams that have become nothing but nightmares.
It's my fault.
Or maybe it doesn't exist.
"Fine. They think I'm depressed. What a joke."
With Cheyennes hands on the steering wheel, she made an expeditious turn before gyrating to glance at me. I was covered in ossein made of clay, or maybe that was just my imagination. Perhaps everything was, and this was only just a dream.
"Have you ever thought about the possibilities that it may be true?"
"It's not, I'm fucking fine."
Daelyn suddenly inaugurated a wheeze, enkindling something within Cheyenne to slam on the breaks in an instantaneous manner. "Shit, pass me her inhaler."
Daelyn has asthma.
We're all pretty fucked up.
"Breathe, Daelyn, breathe."
It was a subsequent perception when she began to respire with the help of her inhaler, leaving Cheyenne on the note of a miniature heart attack because she wasn't expecting it to happen so suddenly.
"We have to stop at Stems Florist to grab a couple of things, and then we can get ice cream from Baskin Robbins and cheer the two of you up, alright?"
I didn't need cheering up.
I never did.
Because I was fucking fine.
Once we arrived, I promised I'd stay inside of the van in the same way they promised they'd only be ten minutes. Both of us were lying.
I was fourteen when I started smoking cigarettes and doing methamphetamine. It wasn't often. Only when I needed to forget about things for a while. And in this case, I was trying to brainwash myself into believing that I don't need pills to be happy. I shouldn't, but I know it's true. And no fourteen year old should have this mindset. But with dead parents and a dead sister, it's kind of hard not to. That's the part nobody gets.
I had to hide behind the dumpster with my methamphetamine, knowing that if security were to catch me right then and there, I'd get sent to juvenile hall. That's my worst nightmare. But at the same time, maybe it isn't. Maybe it doesn't exist.
Who am I kidding? Everything exists.
The boy with the Colbat Blue hair exists, but I don't want him to.
"Everything I saw about him was blue. Aside from his eyes, they were his only exception. He hindered swirls in my eyes, implanted dandelions in my hair, painted indigo hearts on my lips, but still, I didn't want him to exist. Him existing meant me dying, and I couldn't handle that. Even if I wanted to die."
"Calum!" Cheyenne shouted with three plastic grocery bags in her hands, one in Daelyns. "You're doing meth again?"
"It was one time," I rolled my eyes, putting the rest of the powder back in the ziplock bag and stuffing it in the pocket of my sweater.
"Throw it away, now."
"As you wish."
I emptied the entire bag of methamphetamine into the dumpster that I was hovering behind, and I watched as Cheyenne smiled and gave me a proud expression.
But I wasn't proud.
I was sad.
Because the powder was lost inside of the trash, just like my dreams. I wasn't a dreamer, only a smoker, who wanted to leave this world just as much as the next guy.
I didn't need a therapist, but she got me one, anyway.
And I was sad.
But maybe my sadness didn't exist, either.
-
A/N; thoughts?
This took F O R E V E R to write. I'm not even joking. And the chapter isn't long either.
I was trying to be poetic, but failed miserably.
Anyway, what did you think???!
Please don't forget to leave a comment and a vote. Ily all. 💕