Running With Scissors

My hands were covered in little nicks and cuts before I was finished cleaning up the mess. Of course, barely any of the dishes survived th fall, and many would have to be replaced now. But I couldn't help but feel numbly guilty; As if I had brought up a past that was meant to be forgotten- As if I had caused all of this...

Wasted orange juice made a ever-growing puddle on the linoleum floor, getting wiped up with a dirty dishcloth. The kitchen seemed back to the way it was the previous night, but the broken dishes left the counters more bare, and made the appartment seem more like a house then a home. Something told me that this wasn't a home to begin with.

I swept the small remaining bits of glass and brought the garbage outside before exhaustion began to loom over me; and that wasn't the only thing. The clock was ticking beyond the eleven o'clock marker, slowly making it's imprint on history; Being the only second, or the only minute of the only hour that would take place today.

I found myself in the bathroom looking up at my dirty reflection. My face and hands were sticky with sweat, and maybe orange juice. I was scared; still shaken from earlier. If I couldn't see it in my eyes, I already knew it was there, so it didn't matter. I still have the same sad, distorted expression on my face that's been there my whole life. I'm still that scared little boy that hid behind the couches and skipped afternoon classes in the fourth grade to visit his dead mother's grave. I'm still the overly medicated kid that tried to jump off a bridge before he even graduated high school. And now I'm the kid that just lost everyone who ever cared about him...

Fuck it.

I dug through my bag and dialed the number to my psychiatrist, figuring that there had to be someone I could get angry at.

"Hello, Dr. Garrit's office, how may I help you?"

"I need to speak with Dr. Garrit. Now."

"Excuse me? Who may I ask is calling," the secretary asked calmly.

"It's Ace. Now don't trouble me with useless questions; I need to talk to him!"

"I'm afraid he's out of town for the weekend. Would you like me to book you an appointment?"

"No- I don't want a fucking appointment, I'm halfway across the country! It's not working; I need to know why it isn't working!"

"What's not working, sir?"

"The fucking medication! It's not doing anything, I still feel like shit, no matter how much I take! Why isn't it working," I scream. I notice I'm pulling at my hair.

"Well, Mr. Rivers, this can only be fixed by appointment. So if you'd like to make an appointment, then perhaps Dr. Garrit will be able to see you then."

"No! Your not listening to me; I'm not there! You're not listening! You just tell him to call me when he gets this... Or you know what? Fuck it, I'll deal with this on my own!"

The end button on my phone has never been pushed harder before I threw it in the bottom of my duffel bag and punched the wall, leaving a small dent as I cussed quietly.

You're sick of living? What about me? What about what I've been through? You fucked up your own life you selfish little bitch...

I haven't been this angry in a long time. I stop for a second, using the breathing methods that my doctor had advised my to practice when I was frustrated. It worked.. until I thought about how the medication he prescribed me hasn't done anything.

Where the fuck are those pills?

I start ripping apart my duffel bag, tearing out all the little pill bottles and spilling them over the floor until I find the one I'm looking for, emptying as much as I possibly can into my open palm and shoving the handful down my throat- Not even bothered by the fact of dry swallowing. If I'm going to throw up, maybe that will make things better.

What the hell am I doing? I thought I'd gotten over this a long time ago. Just go to bed you dumb ass...

I take another deep breath, cleaning up the mess that I had brought upon myself. But I suppose in the end, everyone needs to release their frustrations in one way or another. So I let myself of the hook and listen to my half-sane thoughts.

I brainlessly drag my body, one foot in front of the other down the hall to the spare bedroom where my solitude waits for me, even if it seems to follow me everywhere I go...