You Are the Oxygen That I Breathe

Everyone is meant to experience happiness at least once in their lifetime right? For me I really don't remember the last time I was ever happy. It seemed like every chance I had back then would only be crushed in a matter of minutes. Like the time where I saved up to buy my first acoustic guitar but soon had my money stolen.

The only time I truly felt happy was when I was unconscious. Sure it may sound weird but there in the darkness everything felt so warming. There was no one to make fun of me, no more worrying about the many rumors I dealt with daily. I also didn't have to worry about having anxiety attacks anymore for they were a thing of the past. Right then and there I felt great.

But it suddenly came crashing down; all of it.



Bright, white lights shined in my eyes as they began to flutter open. Studying my surroundings I noticed I was in the hospital and not in my bedroom.

Not again.

The sound of footsteps approaching soon found their way towards my room. "Glad to see you're finally up Symphony, how are you feeling?" The doctor questioned me as my mother soon followed inside the room behind him. I made no subtle movements or sounds. I wanted to get out of this place as quickly as possible. The sound of my mother's crying was making it harder for me accept that I wasn't dreaming any longer.

"Symphony you've got to stop doing this to yourself," my mom cried out, "This is the third time now." I listened closely to my mother's words as she continued to sob next to me. She was right. I was too caught up in my own depressed to notice the affect it had on my mother.

I was nothing more than a fuckup because of my actions I was basically nothing more than selfish scum. What's even worse was that I couldn't even mutter an 'I'm sorry' to my own mother. Due to how terrified I was words wouldn't make their way out of my mouth.

"You almost overdosed from the amount of anxiety pills you took. This is serious and I don't want you to take this situation lightly." The doctor spoke up again, "This could've been easily prevented. Is there something that's bothering you?"

No. Nothing was bothering me.

It didn't take me long to process the doctor's words. I didn't feel like talking it wasn't like he cared. He was only doing his job. In a few minutes I would soon be discharged from the hospital and I'm pretty sure he was nothing but unsympathetic towards my well being. It was mostly likely nothing but a cover up. He truly didn't care; just like everyone else.

All I wanted to do was leave this hell hole and go home.

"Mrs. Ross," the doctor said calmly, "If you don't mind I know a good therapist I could recommend you. A few of my past patients who've been in the same dilemma Symphony's in have turned out great after a few sessions with him. I'm pretty sure if you tell him what's going on he'll be able to help out."

I swear I saw my mom's eyes lit up at what the doctor had just said. The two soon walked into the hallway to converse more It was obvious that she was finally happy to get all of my problems off of her back with the doctor's suggestion but it's sad how they never checked to see how I felt about the idea.

I was pretty sure I didn't need a therapist, let alone someone to talk to. I was completely fine.

Then again I don't even know who I am anymore.