Someone To Understand

July 28, 2009

I gazed out on the school courtyard, wistfulness, anger, envy, and many more emotions that I couldn’t pick out swirling within my chest.

People all around me, older and younger, were talking with their friends, laughing, having a grand old time.

I wanted that. I wanted that with all my being. But I could never have it.

I sighed as the school bell rang, signaling for students to head in for their afternoon classes. I followed them slowly, not really caring if I ended up late. The teachers didn’t care, so why should I?

Class passed slowly, and I never heard a word spoken. I was in my own world, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. I was on auto-pilot going to classes, answering questions, and doing my work. I was practically a zombie.

I almost missed the last bell of the day that every student and most all of the teachers awaited anxiously. I walked out after everyone else to avoid being trampled.

I walked out to my car, a silver Mercury, and drove home, not really paying attention. I wouldn’t have cared if I got into an accident, but I didn’t. I arrived home within a few minutes, only living a few miles from the school.

I walked into my largish house, feeling as empty as it. My parents were never home, my mother being a flight attendant and my father being a doctor. I always came home to an empty house. I never got used to it. In fact, I hated it.

I walked myself up to my room and looked around with mild interest, as if seeing it for the first time, but not really.

My walls were painted a dark tan color, like the sand. My carpets were a light crème color, contrasting with the walls and blending well. My bed was in the corner, a full sized bed, with white sheets and a calming lavender colored comforter, the pillow white as well.

Overall, it was pretty bland. There were a few pictures here and there, one of me when I graduated from middle school, one of me and my pet dog that had died last year, and one of me, my mom, and my dad in front of our house, from a few years back, when we first moved to the gloomy town of Goshen, Massachusetts. Well, maybe it was only gloomy to me. There was a population of under a thousand and I had no friends. You can probably see why I found it gloomy.

I went over and sat on my bed, thoughts swirling around in my head that had always been there, but I just didn’t look at them hard enough.

I realized that not only did I hate my life, but I hated everyone too. They hated me, I hated them. I had no friends, they did. Most probably took them for granted. I wouldn’t. I would cherish my friends and treat them right, making sure that they were always happy, and if not, I would comfort them until they were better.

But that’s the thing. I don’t have any friends. I mean, who would want to be friends with Gin Miller? I was average at school, could barely manage to avoid getting injured while playing sports, I wasn’t pretty, I wasn’t anything. No one would want to be friends with me.

For some reason, that thought made me feel more alone than ever. It made me feel empty inside. Like I was in the empty vacuum of space, drifting through my life alone.

Alone. That’s all I’ve ever been. No friends, no family, no nothing. Sure, I have a family, but I hardly ever see them, so I might as well not have one at all.

I then realized that I wanted to not be alone anymore. I wanted with all my being to have someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. Someone to hang out with, and someone to cry with. I wanted someone to understand.

I didn’t have any of that, though. I had nothing.

I felt tears fill my eyes, a foreign feeling. I didn’t cry often, in fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I did. Maybe when I was a little girl and scraped my knee. That was back when my mom had still been in college. She had taken care of me and I had felt loved back then. But now? Now I had forgotten what that felt like.

I cried and cried. I was sobbing loudly, because I knew no one would hear. If they did, they wouldn’t care. I needed to cry. I had been holding everything in, something I knew was bad from all the stories and things I read, but who did I have to confide in?

I felt horrible. I wanted to stop thinking, I wanted to stop everything. I wanted to sleep, but I wasn’t tired.

I got up and left to the kitchen, where we kept our medicine. I filed through the bottles, tears still falling freely, and finally found what I was looking for. Sleeping pills.

I opened the child-proof lid and poured out a bunch of pills into my hand. I didn’t care how many I took, I just wanted to sleep, not have to think about anything.

I got a glass of water, not even pausing to consider my actions. I took the pills two at a time and soon, they were all gone. I wiped at my eyes, my tears having stopped, and looked around the kitchen. I spotted a calendar on the fridge and noticed that today was March 3rd. My birthday. I was 16 today.

I started to feel woozy and swayed on the spot. I stumbled forward, before crashing down. I laid there, face down. I didn’t attempt to move, I didn’t want to. I found no reason to.

I heard the door open and still didn’t move. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered who could be here.

I heard heels clicking dully against the hardwood floor, coming towards the kitchen. Still, I didn’t move.

I heard a faint gasp and someone shouting my name, along with something going ‘splat!’ on the floor before I faded into unconsciousness.

I awoke to a loud, annoying, incessant beeping noise coming from somewhere to my right. I opened my eyes quickly, immediately regretting it as bright white light flooded my vision. I closed my eyes and opened them slowly, my eyes adjusting much better.

I took the time to take in the room. It wasn’t much, all white. There was a TV in the corner, which was probably the only color in the room as it was black, two chairs beside the bed on which I laid, and a white curtain splitting the room in half.

I looked to my right and saw the beeping came from a machine with lots of wires. I followed one of the wires with my eyes and saw it was imbedded into my skin.

Then it hit me. I was in the hospital! Why?

I was unable to contemplate this any longer because the door opened and in came, much to my surprise, my mother and father. Once they say my eyes open, they rushed over to my bed in a flurry of words I could barely make out.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Why did you do that?”

“I’m so sorry!”

“How do you feel?”

After a few minutes of this, I was getting annoyed.

“Hey…” I started. They ignored me, continuing to spew nonsense that I didn’t even try to decipher.

“Hey…” I repeated, louder this time. They still ignored me.

Finally, I lost all patience.

“Shut up!” I exploded.

They immediately became quiet, looking at me with surprise.

“Okay, now, will one of you explain what’s going on?” I asked, more calm. “Why am I in the hospital?”

My parents looked at each other before looking at me worriedly.

“You mean you don’t remember?” my mom asked.

“No, I just like randomly asking why I’m in the hospital.” I said sarcastically. “No, why am I here?”

My mom looked apprehensive and spoke slowly, as if choosing her words wisely.

“Honey, I came home from work early because it was your birthday. I got you a cake and everything. But when I returned home, I found you on the floor in the kitchen with an empty bottle of sleeping pills that I know was half-full the day before.” my mom said.

I was quiet. I stared at them blankly. And then it all came back to me.

Felt tears enter my eyes again. I tried to blink them back, but that only made them fall. My parents looked at me alarmed.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” my dad asked.

I couldn’t answer them. I tried to stop my tears and thankfully, they did stop. Lucky me, because the doctor entered the room then.

“Ah, Miss Miller, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

He was a rather young fellow. He was in his early 30s at most. He had light brown hair that was kind of long and hung slightly in his eyes, which he constantly brushed out of his eyes, most likely without even thinking abut it. He had warm chocolate brown eyes and he had a Colgate smile. He was a handsome man.

“I’m fine, Dr….” I trailed off, not knowing what to call him.

“Dr. Phillips.” he said, giving off a warm smile, his eyes twinkling. I could tell that he loved his job.

“I’m fine, Dr. Phillips.” I said with a smile of my own. It felt foreign, but right.

His smile suddenly faltered before disappearing completely. He looked serious.

“Now, Miss Miller-” Dr. Phillips began.

“Gin.” I said.

“Right. Now, Gin, I need you to tell me why you did what you did. Can you do that?” he asked kindly.

I paused before nodding hesitantly.

So, I began telling him. I didn’t tell him everything, but I told him that I just felt alone. He asked a lot of questions and I answered them as vaguely as I could. I wasn’t comfortable talking about this in front of my parents.

“Alright, then. Mr. and Mrs. Miller, I think your daughter is dealing with some depression, so she’ll have to go to some group therapy sessions. Some find it easier to talk when there are others going through similar things.” Dr. Miller said.

They nodded. My parents began arranging times for therapy sessions with the doctor while I thought to myself.

Group therapy sessions? How would that go? Would I make any friends?

I was elated at the prospect, but I didn’t get my hopes up high. I was still Gin Miller, the most uninteresting person ever.

A week had passed and I was released from the hospital the day after I woke up. I was now going to my first group therapy session. I was a little apprehensive, but I still had to go.

When my parents dropped me off at the building, I stared up at it, my apprehension growing, along with my nervousness.

I walked inside and asked where to go. The receptionist kindly told me that it was on the 3rd floor and it was room number 347. I thanked her and walked over to the elevator.

I went up to the 3rd floor and hunted for the right room and found it. I glanced at the clock in the hallway before entering. I was a few minutes early.

I entered after taking a breath in and looked around. It was a spacious, carpeted room with a bunch of chairs, about 10, in a circle in the center of the room.

There were a few people in the room, four boys and two girls. Three of the boys were talking with the two girls in a little group while another boy sat alone.

I studied him, not even sure why for a moment. He had black hair, it was longish, longer than Dr. Miller’s. He had curious, vibrant green eyes that reminded me of Spring. He wore slightly baggy blue jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black t-shirt with a design of some sort in white, white socks, black Converse, and a red wrist band with black stitching of some sort on his left wrist. He had one piercing in his left ear and it was some sort of silver cross. He looked to be only a year or two older than me. Overall, he was really cute.

I realized why I was drawn to him. He was alone when he could be talking with the others. He could either A. be a huge jerk who didn’t believe he needed to be here, or B. be like me, wanting to have friends, to talk with people, but not having the courage to, or did but didn’t bother anymore. I was leaning towards the latter because he looked to be a good person.

For some reason I’m not sure of, I found myself walking past the group talking and walking over to the boy. I stood in front of him and he looked up, curious green eyes peering at me.

“Hi. I’m Gin. What’s your name?” I asked, holding out my hand to shake.

A smile lit up his face.

“I’m Josh. Nice to meet you, Gin.” he said with honesty, taking my hand in his warm one and giving it a shake.

A wide smile found its way onto my face. I had found my first friend. Someone to understand.

The author's comments:
Well, this one I kind of but not really based on me and my guy friend. I tried to get him to read it, but then we got into a fight, so I'm not sure what anyone will think of it.... I hope you all like it. I worked hard on it.

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