My Depression

The Start... Of My Hell

My name is Nate. I know, kind of a boring one, right? But oh well, not everyone gets creative parents. I was born in a hospital, Just like 90% of the U.S. population. Also boring eh? I grew up in a small house in a small town with a big family. Still not interesting, I know.

 By now you're wondering when I'm going to tell you something worth reading. But first, you have to change the way you think. Don't think of me as an author, or some guy with a computer who typed this up, instead think of me as a part of you. Now don't get all creeped out, I don't mean it in a weird way. It's just that you don't actually hear me saying anything, you created my voice in your head. So why not take it a step further and say that I actually am in your head? Like an imaginary friend, but less imaginary. 

 Back to the story.

 I was 19 when I met her. It wasn't love at first sight or anything, I was simply introduced to her at a party. I said hello, and didn't give her much thought. I was too busy drinking, trying to get high, and checking out the collective busts and butts on my side of the room. After that night she never even crossed my mind. Never, that is, until a few years down the line.

 I had just turned 23 and started a new job as a junior editor for a small town paper. (I know, the big city would've been better but I didn't have much of a choice, so hush. I'm not finished.) It was my first day, so I didn't know quite what to expect as I walked through the glass revolving door of the Manhattan Chronicle. (Ok so maybe the town wasn't so small). But anyway. After checking with the front desk, I headed for the editor's office. I'll always remember that first walk down the hallway... the murals on the walls, the way the lights reflected off the tan tile flooring, how loud it was. Kind of like a hospital, but without the blood. Oh, there isn't blood everywhere in a hospital? I'll have to visit a nicer one I guess.

Well, as I neared the office, I heard some voices. It became rapidly apparent that they were female. One was easy to pick up, shrill and annoying. The other had more of a dulcet tone, with a lilt to it, like the person was always almost laughing. I turned the corner and nearly ran them over. A short freckled redhead and a tall, slender (yet somehow voluptuous) dark haired beauty. I instantly recognized one of them, because she was the girl from the party. The redhead of course. She hadn't changed much from what I could tell, which wasn't much because I hadn't seen much at the party. The most remarkable thing about her was that she was remarkably unremarkable. She had this pinched look on her face like she had just tried anal sex without lubricant. It wasn't attractive. But no sooner had I finished my observations than she started yelling at me.

 "YOU! You're LATE!!! You were supposed to be here FIVE MINUTES AGO." I was about to apologize, but she cut me off.  "Save it, cowboy, I don't have time for another apology"

She gave the second woman a death glare as she said "apology".

She scampered away like an angry squirrel, leaving me looking rather foolish and very confused. The dark haired beauty introduced herself as Patricia, and told me to call her Trish. After explaining why the angry squirrel was in such a temper, (I'll tell you later)and telling me that the angry squirrel's name was Kat, she offered to show me around and get me caught up in the swing of things. And so began my life as a junior editor. I thought life was looking up, little did I know it was actually the start of my own personal hell.