Take Aim At Myself

"Can't you just humor your mom?" Nicole and I were walking to the graveyard to find Brendon.

"I hate him. He just sits there and stares at me, sometimes he taps his pen. I fucking hate that." She sighed and rolled her eyes.

Wondering who we're talking about? It's my therapist. A little lost on why I have a therapist?

I was living with my dad at the time in the city. My parents split when I was young, it didn't really effect me too much. I mean, yeah, it bugged the shit out of me making the commute every morning, but that was about it. It was nice going to a small rural school and then living in the big city. It was going well. I partied nearly every weekend with my friends.

That's how I got them. My friends and I were experimenting with them. They were his mom's antidepressants, and it was full. I didn't want to do it at my house, so I jacked my dad's car keys and drove to a Best Buy. No one seemed to be there and I figured it was a safe bet, people didn't like me and I really didn't like people either. So… it worked. I took the first handful at 9:00, I even remember the song on the radio. By 9:15 I was out of my mind, I figured it wasn't working, so I took another handful. There's no way on earth to describe the trip I was going through, it was dark and light all at the same time.

That isn't the main point, so moving on. Time no longer mattered, nor did logic, or reason. Which is probably why I got out of the car and into the store. Like I said, time was no longer an issue, but I knew that I had wandered around the store for a while. I made it all the way to the TV section, where the manager found me trying to put in a DVD from the store's section. I think it was Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Again, not the point.

He found me and by one look at my pupils he knew I was in some deep shit. I suppose it didn't help when I tried talking, that's when he told me either we call one of my parents or an ambulance. I choose parents, with what little working brain I had I knew they'd be cooler if they personally took me to the hospital. If I wasn't so strung out I would have put up more of a fight. Apparently, it is your body's natural reaction to save itself or some shit; my therapist told me that. His says the other reason might be that I didn't really want to do it. That man tells me more than I tell him. Back to the summary.

The manager got a hold of my mom, who rushed to the city and then rushed me to an ER. I'm not quite sure, or clear on why we didn't call my dad. They pumped my stomach and my mom promptly found the therapist I'm seeing now.

Once that crap was done, I lost all of my friends and was deemed and outcast in school. I also had to go back to living with my mom and got a ticket for driving under age. For weeks I sat alone at lunch, until one weekend when I was hanging out at the cemetery. That's how I met Brendon, who was also labeled a freak. If you haven't heard, he has horns, still, we hit it off pretty well. Through Brendon I met Nicole, and that leads to the point. Let's just say feelings aren't mutual.

"Just let him in. Please? For your mom and dad?" I shook my head, "For…Brendon?" Again I shook my head, "For me?" Stopping in my tracks I huffed a little, Nicole glanced back at me as she continued on.

"I don't want to tell that man anything. I don't want to tell anybody." My voice was tinged with a droning whine.

"You can tell me anything." Nicole mumbled.

"It is a long, stupid, story that makes me look like a sissy." I solemnly stated back, receiving a serious look from her. It made me want to stop time.

"Wait, does that me you'll tell me?" Her volume raised.

"Maybe…" I could see a worried and slightly excited anticipation in her body, "some other time." Nicole gave a small, satisfied smirk. We walked in silence until reaching the grave yard.

"Huh, I don't see him." She scanned the area, and continued over to the river. "He said he'd be here."

"What are we gunna do?" There was no way we were going to his house to look for him. Brendon's family is really the goody-two shoes type of family, therefore his mother is no where close to approving of our friendship.

"You could tell me the story."

"Ha, no." I slowly fell back on the ground to a sitting position.

"Fine." She pouted and I chuckled shaking my head.

"Like I said, I'll tell you some other time."

"When?"

"Someday."