Obscurity

I am sick. Unwell. Unhealthy. Defective.

Mother cried when she heard that.
She cried when she heard I needed medicine.
She cried when she heard I had to stay here.

I laughed at the absurdity.

But I think I cried a little inside when I heard Dr. Meyable would be seeing me often. He is going to take me in my sleep, I know it.

“Why am I sick? There is nothing wrong with me, me, me.”

I ask Dr. Meyable. He just readjusts his watch. He doesn’t answer my question. Worthless man.

“Do I have the flu? The cold? Chicken Pox? Oh, I already had the pox, pox, pox.”

Mother reaches out and squeezes my hand.

“H-honey, that’s not… I mean, you’re just… honey, you’re just d-disorganized.”

I nod. Disorganized, disorganized, disorganized.

“…And maybe a little… inappropriate at times.”

Mother adds. She is talking slower than usual.

I am not sick. I am disorganized and inappropriate. I grin.

Dr. Meyable clicks his pen.

“Jet, if may I call you that?”

I cringe. This man wants to get personal with me. Disgusting man. I don’t even get to object. Dr. Meyable continues. He looks at me, his face strained.

“I’m sorry, your results… I’m sorry, but…”

I can’t hear him with my mother sniffling in the background. Mother, where are your manners?

“We suspect that you may be diagnosed with Schizophrenia.”

Mother sobs.

Oh my god. He just proposed to me.

I must escape.