Parallel

Chapter One: Butterflies

Oh god, is this really necessary?

One look at the pale blue eyes behind a set of rounded glasses tells me there's no way to get out of this. The normally carefully blank face of my therapist is, for once, communicating to me. It's like her presence just radiates an all-knowing, umm...I don't even know. No sleep equals no brain power and currently the purple patches under my eyes exemplify this without fail.

My 'therapist' is fairly young, considering all the years she must have done at uni. Isn't it funny how I call her my therapist, when there's probably hundreds of others who she helps with? Maybe some of them actually need this. It's not like I'm a psycho or anything, I would rather they didn't have to draw attention to the fact that I'm different and let me be. I could just camouflage into the background and let life go on without all these people fussing about me.

I understand everyone just wants to help, and the sentiment is nice and all, but no one actually cares, do they? They just assume I'm a freak and never show up in my life again. It's always how things end up going. 'Poor little Maisie', 'Aw sweetie'. Here's a penny for your thoughts; shut up. No, I'm not okay. Yes, life goes on. The freak show is over for today.

Maybe I'm slightly dramatic, but it's the truth. No one wants to be seen with someone who can barely find the will to live. With someone who looses interest in something faster than they could say 'depression'. People really are better off without me, anyways. Things won't change anytime soon, so I might as well get used to the demons screaming in silence, the shrieks and cries of the lonely, who are drowning in tears of worry and stress and disappointment.

"May?"

I realise I've been staring at the bleak carpet this whole time, and still haven't answered Talura.

"Sorry, I-uh, I was just....just thinking." I mumble.

"What were you thinking about?" She asks, re-adjusting her glasses so they aren't falling down her nose and tightening her ponytail of wavy, light brown hair.

What am I meant to say? Yeah, so I'm just thinking about the fact that I'm alone and no one really gives two shits about me? She's a therapist, there's no way she would dismiss those thoughts as mere teenage hormones, or whatever my dad used to say.

Used to say.

Instead, I tell her about my day at school as an attempt to diffuse the tension, and also to escape my own thoughts.

"Well, just sc-school. It was...it was first day today, and well there was a whole lot of new kids. I-"I sigh, already bored of what I was saying.

"New kids? Are they in your year?" She cocks her head inquisitively.

"Yeah, th-there was like I don't even know, uh...six of them?" I say, admiring the cracks in the wall behind Talura's shoulder. The amount of times I've studied those exact cracks isn't even slightly funny.

"That's really cool! Did you catch any of their names? Did they seem nice?"

"There were two girls, one of their names was Delucia? She's in my history class I'm pretty sure? And the others were all boys, Bear was one of their names I think. He's in my chemistry class and he's crazy smart. And Declan. He was really nice to me, he sat next to me in art class and just sort of was there, as if he recognised I'm alone and decided to just be there, you know?" I realise this sounds stupid, but it's been a long time since I've had someone actually acknowledge my presence. And it was refreshing.