Matthew's POV
I wasn't the in the best of moods today. Especially considering that I had my first therapist appointment today. Saying I didn't want to go was an understatement.
I was still not over the Carter situation. I thought about him constantly. What hurt the most, even more than the punch, was that he didn't even come and visit me in the hospital. So he didn't care if I was dead or not. That thought kept me up and night.
Speaking of nights. I couldn't sleep. Somewhere along the line I had developed a serious case of insomnia. I'd get maybe one or two hours in and I wouldn't even feel it.
Usually I get slightly delirious when I'm up in the middle of the night. I start thinking things. I come up with ideas. I'm pretty sure at one point I wanted to run to Carter's house and profess my love for him (again) while playing the Beatles 'All You Need Is Love'. But I am one hundred percent sure that would earn me a punch to the face.
"Matthew honey come here." My mom shouted from downstairs. I sighed. I reluctantly got out my very comfortable bed and went to go see what she wanted.
Lately, my mothers been on my back twenty four seven. She checks on me every few minutes, even during the night. I'm going to explode at one point.
"Yes mother." I said from the top of the stairs. She looked up at me and I could see a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "Matthew you need to get ready. We are leaving for your appointment very soon." she said, trying a bit to hard to make it sound exciting.
I looked down at what I was wearing. I was wearing grey sweatpants and Cameron's colorful 'Vans' t-shirt that I had borrowed at one of the Magcons.
"But I am ready." I stated. She put her hands on her hips. "Matthew Lee Espinosa, you are not going looking like that! You look like you just got out of bed." She screamed. "Well, technically I did just get out of bed." I retorted.
Her face fell and she gave me a soft look. "Matthew... Please just get ready." She said softly. I sighed. "But mom. Therapists are used to talking to crazy people, I highly doubt she'll care what I'm wearing." I said while throwing my hands in the air. My mom looked at me for a while. "Now Matthew." She said sternly. I rolled my eyes at her pathetic attempt to discipline me.
I walked back to my room, hearing a faint, "Don't you dare walk away from me." from my mother. I didn't care. I'd wear what I want.
After about twenty minutes of sitting on my bed playing with my phone there was a knock on my bedroom door. I didn't bother to get up. "Matthew we need to go or you'll be late." My mom said through the door. As much as I absolutely hated this, I had to go or my mom would pop a vein. "Fine." I said while getting up. I left my phone on my bed because it was low battery and there was no point taking it with anyway.
I opened my door and my mom stood there. "Please tell me you're not going to go like that. Matthew what did I tell you?" She asked. "I wear what I want or I don't go." I stated simply. My mother looked like she was going to argue but instead she just exhaled deeply. "Please. Matthew, let's just go." She said while looking down. She looked very tired.
I nodded and followed her to the car.
The drive there was incredibly long, not because of the distance though.
All I was thinking about was what they were going to ask me and how I could answer them.
By the time we got there, I had made up so many scenarios in my head that I had already planned out a script. Not that the stupid therapist would follow it anyway.
After looking for a very long time, we finally found her office. The sign on the door said, "Mrs Flowers, therapist. Room 497". Mrs Flowers, what is she a kindergarten teacher or something?
We walked into the office. It was filled to the brim with children's toys. This added to the conspiracy that she was a kindergarten teacher.
We walked up to her secretary. "Hello, we have an appointment for Matthew Espinosa." My mom said to the secretary. The secretary was tall, she had sleek black hair tied into a high pony and she wore a dress suit. She did not look friendly at all.
"Right. Please take a seat. Mrs Flowers is currently busy with a client." She said. My mom nodded and we took a seat.
It took me a moment to take in my surroundings. Plush toys everywhere. Bright posters. And in the corner a crate filled with Lego.
Suddenly the door swung over and out walked who I presumed was Mrs Flowers. She was walking with a guy, he looked about my age. He had blonde hair that formed a quiff, and he was quite tall. "Alright Brandon, same time next week okay." She said. The kid who's name I now know is Brandon, smiled politely and walked out the office.
"Alright! Matthew! Come on in!" Mrs Flowers said while ushering me into her office. "I'll be here waiting for you Matt." my mom said with a nod. I gave her a small smile as I was ushered into the office.
Her office was quite dull compared to the other room. The walls were painted white and there was a desk in the centre, filled with various objects. "Take a seat." Mrs Flowers said while sitting behind her desk. I took a seat in front of her. I was almost disappointed that there wasn't one of those sofas that you lay down on.
I looked up at Mrs Flowers. She had a light complexion, long blonde hair and piercing green eyes. She would be quite good looking if she weren't like 40 years old.
"So Matthew, I read your file." she stated. Wait? I have a file? "What file?" I asked. "The one from the hospital." she said. Oh.
I didn't say anything. She took out a piece of paper from the pile of papers that were on the corner of her desk. I looked up behind her, there were many certificates that were framed. Damn you smart people.
"The letter that you left. Do you still feel the same way you felt when you wrote that letter than you do now?" she asked. I thought about it. I did. But I got the sense that she wouldn't take me seriously if I said I did, so I opted not to.
"I can't remember what I wrote to be honest. I was pretty drugged up at the time." I said while shrugging. It was half lie half truth. I was pretty drugged up. I took quite a few sleeping pills before I attempted to slash my wrists, but it's whatever.
"So." she said while handing it to me. "Refresh your memory."
I looked down at the crinkled piece of paper. It was filled with my sloppy handwriting. I took a deep breath and started reading.
'Sometimes I wish I were terminal. Like I had some sort of disease that would pick me off before the rest. So that I actually had a good excuse for dying. It's noble, and you wouldn't be seen as a coward.
I've always feared death. I always used to think about what would be waiting for me on the other side. Heaven? Hell? I was taught that if you commit suicide you go to hell. That's how I think it works anyway. That's what scared me. That's what kept me from doing it this entire time. But recently that fear has gone away. I don't fear it any longer. Just one day the fear left and the darkness returned. The darkness in my head. I can't handle it, I can't cope. It's been so long since it was last here.
So, It would be polite of me to apologize for the sadness I will cause, but I simply don't care anymore. All I want is to leave.'
I sighed and looked down. God I was dramatic, but I wasn't wrong. I do feel like that.
Mrs Flowers took back the page and read over it again.
"We have a lot to talk about Mr Espinosa."
//
Question of the day: Do any of you speak any foreign languages?
-I speak Afrikaans and Russian