How Are You Doing?

A snippet of the thought process that goes through a depressed teen.

That place.  The monster that haunts my dreams, the real-life nightmare that I live everyday, and right now, I’m sat right in front of the beast.  Usually people label the location as ‘school’, but I like my version better. I sit, criss-crossed in the grass lent up against a tree, and close my eyes trying to find a place where I can forget about the rest of the world.  With little luck, I pull back the curtain and take in the lackluster setting I observe every day just to see my friend, swimming against the crowds of rushing minos, searching for me.  Once spotted, she walks her way over to my physical form and finds herself sitting in the same cross-legged fashion that I seem to be displaying.  

“Hey, what’s up?”

Trust me, if I knew the answer to that question other than ‘the sky’, I would have responded truthfully, but unfortunately, I’m still searching through the harmones, emotions, and anything else teenagers seem to make a big deal about, to find the correct solution. 

“Nothin, just tired.”

“Same.  I spent all night studying for this stupid AP test I have today, which reminds me, how are you doing? I know with what happened to your family and all..it must be rough.”

And there’s the real reason she’s here, to check up on me like I’m a patient and she’s my doctor.  Though from an outlooker’s perspective, it would seem like a nice act, to me it just feels like charity, and I don’t want it.  With everything that’s happened, the last thing I want to do is talk about it, and in public of all places, but she doesn’t know that.  It’s hard to know what sets people off about a certain subject until you’re in the same position, so even though it takes all my might to get up and walk away from the conversation, I just stay still.  I can’t blame her if she’s never experienced her brother being arrested for drug abuse and parents deciding to argue about it every minute of every day, but God is it hard not to feel pissed about it when the question arises. 

So, I just sit there and think.  I think about how if I persuaded my brother not to go to that party, maybe he wouldn’t have been introduced to those scumbags that got him addicted to drugs.  I mean, it’s my fault after all, isn’t it?  I didn’t protect him, and when he said he would be fine, I believed it. I didn’t even consider going with him to make sure he didn’t get into trouble.  I just sat there and watched him leave without the slightest clue that it would change my brother’s future.  I was so naïve then. 

I just wish I could go back in time and stop him, but the damage has been done, and no one wants to pick up the pieces, not mom, dad.  I can’t, I’m not strong enough.  While my parents have settled to arguing, I’ve been drowning myself in darkness, falling into that never ending black abyss that only gets worse the longer you’re there.  It’s so bad that I don’t even cry anymore, I can’t, my body is so worn out from the loss of sleep, and lack of food, and with the everlasting hateful shouts thrown around between my parents, I can’t seem to think straight, let alone shed tears. 

So doctor, let me ponder the question ‘how am I doing?’, and if the answer isn’t obvious enough from the bags under my eyes, increasingly boney limbs, and slipping grades, I’ll just have to tell you.

“I’m fine.”