I Was Just Looking For A Way Out...
Chapter 4
My family plays the part of concerned all too well… Don’t get me wrong, they definantly care about me, they’re just really dramatizing how much. It’s not too hard to make a 6 look like a 10 when you have an audience.
“Oh honey! Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong!?” My mom cries into a tissue. Don’t get me wrong, she cares, she just has priorities that I’ve never been included in. Hell, when a stranger’s opinion of you is on the line it must be pretty easy to talk about how I’m the most important thing to you; when we both know this little emergency just barely promoted me to the top ten.
“You know you can talk to us about anything son.” says my dad, his face glistening under the bright fluorescent hospital lighting. You couldn’t say he was ever dad of the year or anything, but he’d been pretty cool over the years. I mean if you ever wanted to do anything he was the guy to ask. As long as he didn’t have to pay he was cool with pretty much anything short of a felony. Again, I’ve never been first in his book, but it’s not like I have too many daddy issues.
But do you know the biggest sign they don’t really care as much as they’re trying to look like they do? They never bothered to ask me if anything was wrong before this. Through all the months and years of therapists reporting sessions with absolutely no progress, through all the nights of going to bed at 6:30 just because I just couldn't stand to stay awake any longer, they never once asked. I got yelled at for wasting their money, sure, but I never got a reassuring hand on the shoulder. I guess positive reinforcement or moral support weren’t one of their priorities either…
My mom looks up at me silently now, her eyes full of fake tears to the point where they are just barely hanging on; then boom they fall, cascading and shimmering like diamonds until they crash against the plastic white table. Even I’m starting to buy into this act…
“The doctors think you need to be checked in.” She stops to sniff. “ Your father and I agree that it might be in your best interest to listen to them.” She reaches down and picks up an old backpack from couple years ago. “We brought you some things you might need.”
“Oh honey! Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong!?” My mom cries into a tissue. Don’t get me wrong, she cares, she just has priorities that I’ve never been included in. Hell, when a stranger’s opinion of you is on the line it must be pretty easy to talk about how I’m the most important thing to you; when we both know this little emergency just barely promoted me to the top ten.
“You know you can talk to us about anything son.” says my dad, his face glistening under the bright fluorescent hospital lighting. You couldn’t say he was ever dad of the year or anything, but he’d been pretty cool over the years. I mean if you ever wanted to do anything he was the guy to ask. As long as he didn’t have to pay he was cool with pretty much anything short of a felony. Again, I’ve never been first in his book, but it’s not like I have too many daddy issues.
But do you know the biggest sign they don’t really care as much as they’re trying to look like they do? They never bothered to ask me if anything was wrong before this. Through all the months and years of therapists reporting sessions with absolutely no progress, through all the nights of going to bed at 6:30 just because I just couldn't stand to stay awake any longer, they never once asked. I got yelled at for wasting their money, sure, but I never got a reassuring hand on the shoulder. I guess positive reinforcement or moral support weren’t one of their priorities either…
My mom looks up at me silently now, her eyes full of fake tears to the point where they are just barely hanging on; then boom they fall, cascading and shimmering like diamonds until they crash against the plastic white table. Even I’m starting to buy into this act…
“The doctors think you need to be checked in.” She stops to sniff. “ Your father and I agree that it might be in your best interest to listen to them.” She reaches down and picks up an old backpack from couple years ago. “We brought you some things you might need.”