The School Of Self Destruction

Today is group therapy day.
Ah, the wonders of group therapy.
Welcome to the land of the cliché.
"Hi. My name is Bob and I'm an alcoholic."
Hi Bob.
How trite.

Felix and I walked down the halls of Saint Jude's together, aiming towards the west side of the building. Felix was saying something about a movie we should all go see. Poor disillusioned Feel. Believing in a society that no longer exists. He's been removed from the real world and yet he stills feels that he's part of it. Like the ghost of a person who thinks they're still alive, he keeps reliving what he had when he was alive.
My name's Felix and I still think everything is normal.

We rounded the last corner and saw Alice standing outside the therapy room. She straightened up when she caught sight of us.

"Hey how was the movie?" Felix asked.

"Oh it was alright," she paused, but then didn't continue.

"I saw you there with whats-his face," Felix said.

"Have you seen him?" she asked nervously. "I told him I'd meet him here, he hasn't been to one of these before."

"Are you taking part in this one?" I butted in on their conversation.

My name's Elizabeth and I'm being ignored.

"No," she gave me an indecipherable look. "I just thought it'd be nice to wait."

"I'm not either," Felix says. "How about we go to the second floor common room? Anna wants to watch some TV."

Alice and I sigh, exchanging a look between us.

"Alright Felix, let's go watch TV." Alice replies.

"With Anna," he adds.

Alice doesn't say anything to this, instead she links arms with Felix, and they walk off.
Leaving me standing outside the dark blue door, its paint chipped and fading, and the small glass panel clouded over.
My name is Elizabeth and I've been abandoned for somebody who's not worth it.

Miss Sally came and opened the door, jingling the keys in her hand in a rather off-putting, cheery manner. She asked me if I was going to share this time.
This time, as opposed to the last dozen times she's tried to get me to share with 'the group'.
My name's Miss Sally and even though you don't know my real name I want you to trust me
Personally, I think now is the time to do this. I don't know why. It's just feels like it's time.

Half a dozen people slowly filtered in through the doorway. They nervously sat down on the chairs in the circle. Miss Sally clapped her hands to get our attention, like you would do with a child.
All of the people in the room looked up sharply and said a few mumbled hellos, everyone calling her something different.
Miss Sally, Mrs King, Ms Thompson.

"All right, people," said Miss/Mrs/Ms Sally/King/Thompson. "we all know what we're here for. So who wants to go first?"

My name is Elizabeth and I'm about to bare my soul to people I don't care about.

I stood up and she nodded at me. "Go ahead Elizabeth."

I looked at the people sitting around me, staring back at me in turn. What were they gaining from this insight into what used to be my life?

"I'm not going to say what my name is, and what my problem is. I'm just going to tell you a partial story of my life, leading to where I am now. Here." I cleared my throat with a cough. "I've always wanted to be the best. Always. There's no ifs or buts or maybes, it's always been that way, and it always will be that way. When I was little I did ballet and karate and soccer and athletics and every other activity my parents would put me in. And I was always the best. I was the lead dancer in ballet, I won every fight in karate, was the star player in soccer and I was won the gold in athletics.

"To be honest, I didn't really like karate or soccer or athletics. I was more of a girlie girl. I wanted to be a ballerina. But you can't be a ballerina when you play sport. The two don't work together. My parents always wanted two kids, a boy and a girl, but all they got was me. And after the 6th or 7th miscarriage, my mother and father decided that maybe it just wasn't meant for them. They went back to working full time, saving money for college funds they didn't need.

"I rarely saw them at all really. Growing up, my most parental figure was my nanny. She was the loving-caring substitute for my parents. Except when I won something. The day I won my black belt in karate they took the entire weekend off, and took me to the park. That was possibly the most time I'd ever spent with them. I discovered that the only way they would love me was when I was perfect. So I became the perfect child. I was everything they could want from their progeny.

"But the problem with perfection is that the levels kept raising higher and higher. Soon it wasn't enough just to be good at a few things, they stopped paying attention. I had to be good at something else. So I played more instruments and took more classes and eventually it became so consuming that there was nothing else any more. Hell, I didn't even have friends. Sure, I was popular. I was pretty and smart and rich. Of course I would be popular. But nobody wanted to hang out. Nobody wanted to go watch a movie, or go shopping.

"After school, after all my other classes, I'd wander the streets alone. Sometimes I'd go by this empty parking lot, and see a group of guys on skate boards and bikes, doing tricks off home-made ramps. It didn't really interest me, per se, but it did catch my attention. So, eventually, I went over to them, and watched up close. They didn't even notice I was there most of them time. Occasionally one of them would come and sit with me, and explain all the tricks and the styles and the boards and the wheels and what it all meant. After awhile, he ran out of things to explain to me, about the rest of the guys. So he began to tell me other things. What he thought of the world. Why we are, who we are, and what we're doing.

"It was compelling. He talked about the world only loving that which is ruined. He said that the biggest disaster is our biggest fascination. In turn, I told him about how I was only loved when I was perfect. He told me it wasn't true. He said he'd show me.

"We went back to my home. My parents weren't home, as usual, and my nanny left for English class an hour prior. We didn't 'make love'. It wasn't like that. There was no love to it. It was harsh and it was cruel. But it wasn't all bad.

"Afterwards, he lay on the bed and I went to the bathroom. I felt dirty and wrong. It wasn't the way it was meant to be. I took a cold shower, hoping that I'd suddenly discover it to be all a dream. But it wasn't. It was real and it was there and I didn't like it at all. I decided that it wasn't worth it. I didn't want to have to try any more. I couldn't be perfect. I could never be perfect.

"So for some reason I decided to end it. I suppose that really I was doing just like he said. I went through the medicine cabinet and took all the tablets I could find. Then I realised that maybe I'd done the wrong thing. Maybe this wasn't the way it was meant to happen. I tried to call an ambulance. I can't remember if I did. I suppose so, because I woke up in hospital later. That guy I never saw again.

"He promised me distinction with his talks of destruction and ruin. He promised me perfection and he promised me superiority and he delivered none of it."