Borderlines

Chapter 8~Meeting Shame

Four baby ducklings trail after their mother in the dark reflective water of the lake. The water ripples out in waves from beneath them. Two yellow and black butterflies flutter into the clear blue sky. A cool breeze rustles my hair.

Manny sighs, walks in a circle and lays down on the grass underneath the bench I'm sitting on.

Happiness appears on the bench next to me.

"Beautiful day today, right?"

I look around to make sure no one is nearby before answering. "Yeah."

"You can go ahead and talk to me. No one is paying you any mind. Not that you're unimportant. They'll assume you have headphones in and are talking on the phone or something. Why don't you tell your mom about us?" he asks, although that question makes him begin to fade.

"It'll worry her."

"Maybe rightfully so. But she'll have good advice. I think the real reason why you won't tell her is because you're ashamed." His voice gets quieter and he fades away completely. Depression takes his place. A woman who looks similar to Depression stands near the bench.

She has long, black braids that turn maroon at the tips. She's wearing a black long sleeved shirt, black pants, and black boots. Where Depression is adorned in jewelry, this woman has none.

"Happiness can't even do his job. He's summoned me and my cousin," Depression says and lights a cigarette.

"Who are you?" I ask the woman.

"You haven't figured that out by now?" she asks back.

"I don't know. No one's telling me anything and your name isn't plastered on your forehead, believe it or not," I say.

"Well there are clues aren't they? You can't put them together?"

"Okay. Well. Depression says I'm her cousin. And we appeared when he told you you're ashamed. That makes me...?"

"Shame?" I guess.

"Bingo. And it only took me spelling it out for you to get it."

"Great."

"So you're thinking about telling your mom that you can see people that aren't really there? You know, if you were normal you wouldn't be able to see us. She's going to tell you to tell your psychiatrist. And your psychiatrist is going to prescribe you medicine with all sorts of weird side effects to dope you up and make you stop seeing us. But the medicine could make the hallucinations worse. All of this wouldn't happen if you didn't tell her, or if only you were normal," Shame says.

"Amen," Depression chimes in.

"It's not my fault," I say with a frown.

"Everything is your fault," Shame says.

I watch the ducklings get out of the lake and waddle after their mom. I stroke Manny's soft black fur between his ears.

Depression begins to fade as I pet Manny.

"My mental health is not my fault. And I will overcome it."

"Look at you. You're talking to two people who aren't here on a bench by yourself at a park. You don't even have friends. You'll never overcome us. But go ahead, try," Shame says.

"I will be happy someday," I assert.

"Not today," Depression says.

I watch the ducklings eat some crumbs by the nearest trash can. Watching the ducks makes Depression fade even more.

"Yes, today."

I get up and slowly walk toward the ducklings. I pull out an old granola bar from my pocket then feed it to the ducklings. Depression fades completely. And soon so does Shame.

"I'm proud of you," Happiness says. "The way you dealt with the worst tag team is impressive."

"Thank you Happiness."

"One day you'll meet my family. Pride is a real hoot. Anxiety's twin Excitement is quite nice too."

"I don't really want to meet more of you guys. You should stay...wherever you stay," I say.

"We stay with you."

"Well you guys go away sometimes. Where do you go?"

"We hang out with each other. We like to go to the same places humans go to. Beaches, bars, movies, home."

"Where is home?" I ask.

"Our home is your home."

"Where were you before me?"

"With other people with schizoaffective disorder and schizophrenia. It's worth mentioning that what we call having the ability to see what others can not, you humans label it a disorder."

"Because it is a disorder. We're making you up, you're not real."

"Depends on your definition of real."

I get quiet as a woman wearing leggings and a sweat stained pink tank top jogs by. She forces a smile at me and I can't help but wonder if she saw me talking to myself. Once she's out of earshot I turn and look at the man.

"Like that woman. She can't see you. That means you're not real."

"What if someone else could see me?"

"Doesn't count. You have to be made up of real mass to be real."

"So your thoughts aren't real?"

"They are real. But not in the same way."

"Hallucinations are just thoughts. If thoughts are real, then I'm real. I'm real to you and that's all that matters."

"Fine. But I still shouldn't be able to see you," I say, and lean back on the bench. I watch the ducklings follow their mom onto the dirt trail.

"You have to decide if normalcy is something you genuinely want for yourself because you want it or is it something you want because others told you that you should have it. When you tell your mom that you have the ability to see us and she suggests you go on medication, you have to decide if that's something you want. And if it is, then hey, I'm all for it. I'm for whatever makes you happy," Happiness says and smiles at me.

"Thank you," I say and smile back at him.