Addicted

Therapy and late night coffee

"How do I feel?" I repeat. " It makes me feel sick. It makes me lose faith in humanity and I feel sorry for future generations if this is all we have to offer. I'm not going to apologise nor am I going to blame anybody else. I'm not going to use a complete story of bullshit about my past to justify the way I am because I know I am here because of myself. I could have reacted differently, yes, and the things I have done are unacceptable to say the least, but that's just how it is. That's life. We all make mistakes, but it doesn't mean we should apologise for them. It just means we should learn from them and move on. " I sit back down in my chair and fold my arms.

"Thank you for sharing with us, Charlie. Anybody else?" Alan says rubbing his neck awkwardly. A girl with crazy pink hair and many many piercings stands up.

"I think you are wrong." She directs at me.

"Oh? And why is that?" I ask curiously.

"I believe if you make a mistake, you should say sorry for that mistake. You should think about what you have done and try to come up with a solution. I think you are angry for your dad leaving and you are angry he hasn't apologised." She says raising a studded eyebrow at me.

"Oh, I'm SORRY, are you my therapist now?" I snap. "What will saying sorry do?" I ask. " What will be achieved? Sorry is just a word. It's a 5 letter word that is over used and old. People say sorry just to do the same thing over and over again, so what does the word sorry really mean? Nothing. It means nothing." I say back. The pink haired girl doesn't respond, she just shakes her head and sits back in her chair.

"You know what? I've had enough for today." I added, standing up and walking out of the room.

* Earlier that day *

"Going to group therapy isn't going to help anything Andrea." I sigh flicking through the TV channels.

"It is and you are going." She says grabbing the remote, turning off the TV. "Now get up and get your shit together." Andrea kisses my head before I hear the sound of staccato clicks of high heel shoes on our marble kitchen floor. I let out a breath of air that was filling my lungs and roll off the setee.

"Adios!" I call out grabbing my car keys.

"Nuh uh I don't think so. I'm coming with you." She calls, waddling her way to the front door in her tight knee length black skirt and a white shirt.

Like hail stones on a glass pane, the drumming of my fingers was as relentless as it was loud. Each click of my french polished nails on the car dash board echoed the tumultuous thudding of my heart beat.

"Chin up, Charlie. I bet it's not half as bad as what you think it's going to be. I'll come pick you up in an hour." Andrea explains giving me a sympathetic look.

I reply with a faint smile before getting out of the car and giving Andrea a wave. The car purred to life driving further and further away and I was left alone. Without thinking, I began walking towards to tall building called 'Adolesence Advisors'. It took a while, but after asking a very annoyed woman at the front desk where I go to "Wollow and feel sorry for myself infront of a group of strangers" She soon took the hint and realised what I meant, pointing me in the right direction.

"Hello everybody." A man in his mid 30's, wearing thick black glasses greeted the class of about 15 individuals. His suit was black...sharp-looking, and well-fitted. The sort of thing that a woman would pick out for her man to wear to a formal event.

"My name is Alan Lewis, I'm going to be your therapist for the next couple of weeks. I'm going to start off with telling you a little bit about group therapy and what my aims are for you. To begin-oh, can I help you?" The class all turn their heads in my direction.