Put someone who is too good for you beside someone you want but can never have, spice things up with a relentless bully and a few suspicious personalities, then you get Oliver's first semester in Denberg University.
Oliver Wilburn, a once sad case...
I want to dedicate this chapter to two very beautiful individuals heyheyyhey2 who gives me a very long, interesting review of every chapter and is my most enthusiastic reader, and uh_huh-listen_boi who has been there since day one! Tysm guys and to everyone I'm really grateful, don't hesitate to text me anytime.
(Please don't play the song until it says so in the chapter for added effect, I promise you won't regret it. :) )
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Chapter 14 - Fear, Tears, Sadness and Safety.
Oliver
I can not and should not diagnose myself with bipolar disorder, because whenever I felt this way, I was always at the depressive lows. Not once have I gotten to the manic highs. At least not yet. Some days I just wake up feeling severe sadness, regret for all the bad decisions I've made weighing down on my chest, bringing tears to my eyes.
Today wasn't the first day I woke up with my pillow drenched with tears. It was just one of those many days, and more to come. I haven't really said anything about it to anyone, but I think I had a serious case of sleep-crying on some nights. Candidly, feeling this way did not bother me at all. I only felt concern for my mum, seeing me this way would break her. And finding out just how long I've felt this way and stayed mute about it would only exacerbate her pain.
She tries her very best to keep me happy, she even goes out of her way just to please me. I appreciated this, I really did, but it wasn't working. Yes, I felt temporary happiness knowing I was completely safe under her care, I felt really grateful for having a mother like her. Despite everything my depression lingered, solely because she didn't know the major cause of my emotional unrest. I'm quite open with my mum but I never told her how confused I am about my sexual orientation. It hurts even me to say that at times like this she couldn't help because I'd refused to be completely transparent with her on the issue.
I wasn't scared that she'd reject me or hate me, I was scared that if I told her, or my dad, they'd feel the need to treat me differently. To see me differently. Honestly, I couldn't care less about what my dad thought. We've never been close, he's never showed the average amount of fatherly interest in my life, this simply means he doesn't really care about my sexuality. So why should I care about what he might think?
Heck! Was I even sure that the reason behind my rapidly growing melancholy was just my unwanted bi-curious nature? That it wasn't something a little more severe or genetic.
Thursday had passed by really quickly, just another day of faking smiles and burying my emotions deeper alongside my true desires. I barely spoke to my friends Kevin and Shirley yesterday, even Chris who shares one lecture with us on Thursdays.
