2016/01/29 Friday
As of this morning, there's been a huge leap in how many followers I've gained because I went right from having 5 followers to having 21 which was stupid and unlikely and for some reason I'm sure this is a joke or a prank. Or maybe it's Dr Nestor's way of getting back at me after I ignored her yesterday. So welcome, all 16 new followers whether you're real or not I hope you all realize soon that there's nothing interesting about a 17 year old boy in a wheelchair.
Mr Bowie missed today's lesson and instead sent me an email that had something to do with how he wasn't feeling very well but that he'd see me again on Monday. He also told me that because I had a "long weekend" there would be a history test on Monday and that I'd get double the homework if I didn't pass with flying colours.
He didn't forget to mention that he'd be emailing Gerard as well, so as to make sure that I didn't go to a party or something and tell Gerard that I had lessons. Which was stupid because I didn't have any friends so I couldn't go to any parties and I also didn't like parties anyway so I wouldn't go, even if I had the choice.
I didn't mind that he was telling Gerard though. I didn't mind, that was, until Frank came to pick me up. He told me in all honesty that we'd be going for hot chocolate and then he'd take me to group therapy afterwards and there were no tricks about today he just wanted to take me out for some hot chocolate as a sorry about Friday's Betrayal.
And even though I didn't want to forgive him, I said that I would go with because I wanted to have Hot Chocolate at Mug & Bean and I would have to go to group therapy whether I wanted to or not. It was better to just accept it and get Hot Chocolate than to be spite about it and not have hot chocolate.
We went to Mug & Bean and because we had time before we had to leave, Frank took me to the bookstore and let me browse from all the books that I could reach, which weren't very many. I spent an equal amount of time at the fantasy and sci-fi books before I decided to have a look at the comedy books because I liked reading Jeremy Clarkson's biography and I quite enjoyed John Cleese's biography too.
But I didn't find anything that seemed all that interesting to me except for Anne Frank's diary. I didn't open it or read it at all, because it seemed kind of wrong to read her diary when she spent all of her time writing her dreams and wishes inside, convinced that no one would ever read her secrets and her fears. And even though she'd died long ago (probably around the same time as the Jews from The Boy in Striped Pajamas) I still felt kind of ashamed to read her personal diary.
By the time Frank decided it was time that we left the bookstore, he told me that I could keep looking around but that he was going to pay for his books really quickly and even though I still had the time to keep looking, I couldn't do so peacefully because I was waiting for him to tell me we could leave. When he finally did call, I almost rode over a small child's fingers to get to him. But she moved just in time.
He got me into the car quicker than Gerard had yesterday, like he usually did. He lingered afterwards to put my seatbelt on for me like I was child who couldn't do it for myself. And while I was on the brink of forgiving him for Last Week Friday's Betrayal I didn't really like it when he treated me like I couldn't do anything for myself so I still doubted whether I really should forgive him in the end.
It was clear that he still felt guilty though, because on our way to Group Therapy he asked I thought you would have bought The Boy in Striped Pajamas with you? And it was in that moment that I realized how much on an idiot I truly am because even though that's all I'd been thinking about, I forgot it behind.
But I could let Frank know that I was an idiot so I just shrugged and said I didn't wanna ruin it but we both knew that wasn't true because the book had been my favourite for 4 years now and it showed. It had dirty fingerprints all over the pages and most of them were torn where I'd been too rough with them.
I got you this one, though. Only if you wanted it. Frank handed me one of the books he's bought at the bookstore. I'm sorry it's not wrapped up and whatever but I didn't really have time. I saw you looking at it. Frank was right, I had been looking at it. And while I was very happy to have a new book, I felt sort of guilty because a thought of The Boy in Striped Pajamas fluttered through my mind.
The book Frank had given me was called Slice of Cherry and the font the title was in looked like it could Tim Burton's handwriting because everything curled sort of awkwardly and there was no real pattern in the way the letters curled. The cover was sort of girly, three teacups stacked on each other with blood running down the one side.
But I still tried to launch my body to hug Frank as soon as we stopped outside of the boring building that had Dr Nestor's office in it. Needless to say, it didn't work because I couldn't use my feet or legs at all. But Frank got the general gist and he launched his body to hug me even though it didn't have the same feel to it.
We waited outside of the elevator and I clutched Slice of Cherry nervously and hoped that Pete wasn't waiting inside with his Polaroid camera, ready to take a picture of me in the chair. And when the elevator doors opened I was relieved to find that he wasn't inside. I thought back to the photograph of me tucked between the pages of The Boy in Striped Pajamas.
I thought of it, lying on my bed at home and probably waiting for me to come home while I was out with Slice of Cherry. It made me feel guilty almost like, to some extent, I was breaking a commitment to The Boy in Striped Pajamas like the book was a real person even though I knew it wasn't. So I tried my best to ignore all of my thoughts around it and prepared myself for Group Therapy.
Frank wheeled me all the way in, even after I told him he could leave me at the door. He ruffled my hair and said enjoy before he disappeared into the front room and out of the office building before the lady at the head of the invisible table could catch him. I spotted girl-Gerard and I saw that she was talking to Pete, who sat in the seat next to hers.
I was rather disappointed to find that, unlike last week, group therapy wasn't split into 2 halves. Instead, I sat next to Pete and pretended to care about everybody's life. We went around the circle, including me this time, and everyone had to introduce themselves followed by their age and why they were there.
Hi. I'm Pete Wentz. I'm 17 and I'm here because my mum died of Huntington's disease. I'd never heard of Huntington's disease before in my life but it sound atrocious and for a moment I felt sympathy before deciding that sympathy was bullshit and I therefore stopped caring about Pete and his dead mother as a whole.
Hi. I'm Haley Williams. I'm 15 and I'm here because my brother committed suicide. The Gerard-girl sounded very composed as she said it, but I could hardly imagine how one could be and I decided that she was a liar and therefore I wouldn't talk to her at all. Still, I felt a flicker of anguish because all I could think about was whether I'd be that composed if Gerard had killed himself.
Hi. I'm Ryan Ross. I'm 16 and I'm here because my best friend drowned in his swimming pool. I felt bad for wanting to laugh but just the way that Ryan's eyes looked down at the carpet like he himself was trying to containing his own laughter. I realized, of course, that everybody here was here because they had lost someone. So when my turn came around....
Hey. I'm Mikey Way. I'm 17 and I'm here because my legs died of old age. Nobody laughed but when Pete looked up at me I could see the smile in his eyes. The lady at the head of the invisible table who, for some reason, didn't have to introduce herself sighed so loudly that I'm sure Gerard could hear it from his desk at work.
A couple of people in the group gave me really dirty looks but I didn't care because people who go to support groups are stupid. People are generally stupid. The rest of the session was spent listening to someone rant about how they were feeling and everybody had the opportunity to say something to the person bitching and moaning.
I think everybody spoke to everybody except for me because I didn't see the point in giving advice to someone who wouldn't use it at all. And for a while I managed to think that I was getting away with it until the Lady at the Head of the Invisible Table said Have you got any advice for Ryan, Mikey?
And, of course, I hadn't been paying attention to Ryan at all. But I managed to spew out the same thing I'd heard so many times before. You're just going through one of the stages of grieving. I know that it sucks right now but I guess it's all going to be worth it when you come to the end of the cycle. And I know that it feels like it's going on forever but it'll come to an end eventually and when it does, you'll have fully accepted it. So just hang in there.
It was a basic, watered down version of the same speech Dr Nestor had been giving me for the past year and while I thought it was complete bullshit I could admit that it sounded smart and profound when I said it to someone. I could tell that I'd caught the Lady at the Head of the Invisible Table of guard.
I didn't have a chance to bitch and moan, not that I would've like one, before the session ended and I had to wait for Frank to fetch me. Pete offered to wheel me to the elevator and ride it down with me so that we could wait together. Ryan and Haley agreed to come along too. I agreed on account of the fact that my arms were tired and I didn't feel like waiting for Frank to come up.
What you said up there was really smart, you know? Pete said once we'd gotten into the elevator. The doors had closed but the elevator wasn't moving and it took me a moment to realize that I hadn't seen anyone press the button. And I think it struck me then that we were just a group of teenagers who'd never been in an elevator where it was their responsibility to press the button.
I was very proud to press the button myself, before I told Pete that what I said upstairs was just shit I'd been told a million times before. They all laughed and it felt like they were really laughing at me. Not just because I was in a wheelchair.
You're really cool, Mikeyway. And Pete said my full name like it was one word. You know, we're hanging out on Wednesday. It would be cool if you wanted to join us. And I said that I'd think about it but I knew that I wouldn't because A) I didn't have time between rereading The Boy in Striped Pajamas and studying and B) I didn't want to. Pete made me put my number into his phone though, so that he could text me the details. And I did.
Regardless, I wouldn't see them on Wednesday. I'd see them all again next Friday.
Mikey.
Author's note:
I know that you hate these just as much as I do, but what can I really do when I get tagged in something? So... I've been tagged by lights_and_sounds. So... I have to show you my lockscreen and explain what it is, I guess.
This picture (in the media above) feeds my family, pays my school fees and clears my skin. It has three of my favourite things: 1. a cute, short attractive human being, 2. Daniel Radcliffe (as mentioned) and lots of doggies.
So um... I'll just go ahead and inconvenience a bunch of you by tagging you in this: