The Punk Rock Princess & The Garage Band King

I finished the first day begrudgingly, dodging every bullet that would have forced me to talk about my past, and now it was time for therapy. The Room I can't stand...yay! I thought to myself. There was nothing worse than sitting in a cold room with a man who tries to give you tips about your life, but doesn't listen when you tell him they wont work. I had grown accustomed to remaining mute while in therapy.

I sat alone in the waiting room, which was garishly decorated with various animal prints that just did not go together, no doubt designed by Dr. Calvin's assistant. It all made my eyes hurt, so I chose to lose myself while listening to my iPod, eyes closed. It was easy to just drift away when I had those earbuds in. The music just flowed through me, and life just became so much easier all of the sudden. It was like could hear every note perfectly, and every instrument in perfect harmony, the bass filling the holes left in my heart. With the earbuds in, all I had to do was breathe. That was my only responsibility, my only care.

It took me a while to figure out that my therapist was over fifteen minutes late for the appointment. Bitch at me for being late? I huffed to myself, knocking on the door to The Room. The door now stood ajar in front of me, and I rolled my eyes in response. Then I took in a deep breath, and pushed into The Room.

It was meant to look warm and inviting and comfortable, and it kept up a good facade. The walls were a very neutral and light beige, the only pictures adorning the walls were Dr. Calvin's college diplomas and whatnot. Bookshelves lined another wall, close to full with what was surely all of the books Calvin had to read to get into his position. The couches were comfortable and a darker brown, which only made it easier for me to take my vow of silence and slip away with my music. He hardly ever realized I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, and when he finally figured it out, it was already the end of the session.

Dr. Calvin and his stupid attempt at talk was pointless, and frankly, annoying to me. He was middle aged, and had the remnants of a handsome face. His jawline was chiseled, as was his body at some point in his life, but that all went to shit after he got married to his high school sweetheart. He lost his glory days, and anybody could see that just by looking at him. The frown lines were obvious on his face, along with his ever growing beer belly. It wasn't hard to see exactly the person he used to be. Therapists were essentially supposed to be people who didn't talk about themselves, but even when he was talking about me, I could see right into him. I knew he was in the middle of a divorce, probably because his wife realized he wasn't the coolest guy in high school anymore, but was instead on his way to becoming an alcoholic. He still wore the ring, his last reminder of what used to be.

Of course, Dr. Calvin never said that to me. Oh no, God forbid he ever spoke a word about himself to me, even though he so desperately wanted to. It was plain to see in his eyes that he was in fact the one that needed somebody to talk to, not me.

The one thing I hate the most about human nature is their tendency to lie or be fake with me. I couldn't stand Calvin for that reason. He tried so damn hard to be a good therapist to me, so hard to pretend that I was getting better, getting over everything. But I wasn't. He wasn't helping, and nobody else could. I knew that already.

But why wasn't he here? Where the hell could he possibly have gone? I decided to start the timer from where it was supposed to be at this point in time--30 minutes left. I sat on the couch I'd come to know so well, and drifted away, as always.

I think I like The Room better when it's empty.

There isn't much of a difference anyways.