Simply Sam

Chapter One

"You have four more weeks of high school Sam, what are you going to do with your life?" Lisa asked. I was really getting tired of this question. I've been asked by teahers, family members and now my therapist Lisa.

Like any other time I was asked this I replied with, "I don't know." I kept my head down because I hated the way Lisa looked at me. I was a lost cause, and she never got anything from me. She was going to have to let me go as a client if I didn't show any improvement soon. I know this because I over heard her and my mother talking before todays session. Not that I care, it definitly wasn't my decision to come here every Friday afternoon, but it also wasn't like I ever had plans on a Friday afternoon. I just hated the way she looked at me, because it was the only way anyone ever looked at me.

"Come on Sam, you gotta quit shutting everyone out. It is crucial you say how you feel. It's the only way you will ever overcome your depression."

This was also something I was used to hearing. At the age of fourteen I was diagnosed with depression- or "Major Depressive Disorder" as the doctors called it. I wouldn't call it depressed as much as a slap of reality, because at the age of fourteen that's when I decided life has no purpose. You do everything you can to be happy, make money, memories and all that, but for what? Everything is just temporary because in the end we all die. So After explaining this to my mother she made a few calls, scheduled a few apointments and now here I am sitting on this lumpy couch, staring at the celing and being asked pointless questions that have no answer.

"It's four o'clock."

"What?"

"It's four o'clock, my session is over" I pointed up to her clock with each number made to look like a kitten.

"Very well then, I'll see you next week" As I stood, she grabbed my wrist and forced me to make eye contact "And Sam, try to start thinking about what it is you want in life. High school doesn't last forever."

As I walked out of her office I looked at the pictures hanging in the hallway. There were endless pictures of the therapist in the building posing with smiling children from infants to people older than me. The pictures we're so happy, which was pretty ironic considering I've never smiled once in here.

My mom was waiting in the lobby for me with the same hopeful expression she had every Friday afternoon at Four pm. As soon as she saw my expression, hers dropped but she plastered a fake smile on her face, obviously for my benefit.

Every Friday pretty much went the same, my mother checks me out from school , ride half a mile to the office , suffer through thirty minutes of the mother-daughter therapy and another thirty of solo therapy.Then in the twenty minute car ride home I'm nailed with a hundred questions from my mother who is the complete oppisite of depressed, and when we finally reached home I go to my room and shut the door and that's exactly how it stays the whole weekend, as I escape the real world into a world of movies.

Movies are my idea of happy. I've always been fascinated by the fact everything works out smoothly and acording to plan. And I love the idea of boy meets girl-boy loses girl-boy wins girls heart. I don't plan or expect to live like movies, and I never try to. Life is the complete oppisite, and I've accepted that but it just makes me love movies more.

But today as I start to climb out the car to begin my weekend, my mom stops me.

"Sam, we are having company for dinner." My Mother mumbles with her head turned out the window.

"Okay."

"I expect you to come out and eat with us in the dining room."

"Who is it?" My sister visits from Colorado once a week and has dinner with us but we never eat at the dining room. It's usually takeout on the couch with her and she's perfectly fine with it.