new plans, which is to go see a movie.
“You're safe from having to talk for about 90 minutes or so,” she teases after I buy our tickets for the noon showing, which starts in a few.
I chuckle, only giving her a little laugh. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Always.” Olivia shrugs.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Patrick. He's probably still pissed from when I ignored him the last time he called. I glance at Olivia.
“Take it. We have a couple minutes.”
I wish she didn't say that. With a deep breath, I answer, “Hey.”
“Hey, about time. I know you have class in a few, but I wanted to check in since you didn't answer last time. Though, I hear you talked to Luce.” I can't tell if he's happy about that or slightly irritated.
“Yeah, things are fine. I've sent y'all some more money too.” Sending money is normal and that's what he wants to hear. And things sort of are fine anyway. A small bite of guilt hits when I realize he thinks he's caught me right before a class I no longer take.
Patrick ignores the part about the money, choosing to focus on the part where things are fine. “Really?” His tone tells me exactly why I lie to them. He wants to know things are good again, just like that. He's hopeful he doesn't have to worry about me so much. He wants me to be better way faster than what's possible.
“Yes, really. Stop questioning me. I'm your older brother, don't forget that.”
Part of me expects him to laugh, but he gets serious instead. “And don't you forget that we're your family too, Corey. If it gets bad again, you need to tell us. We can help.”
I run a hand over my face. No, they can't. I'm barely able to help myself. “I'll do that,” I lie. “You all stay out of trouble. I gotta go.” When we hang up, Olivia's looking at me like she wants to say something. “Don't even think about it. Let's go watch this movie.”
We chose a comedy, and it turns out to be a really good movie. However, by the time it's over, there's not enough time for me to take Olivia home before my appointment. I'm going to have to take her with me. Even though she won't go into the back with me, it's still churning my stomach with the thought of having her there. It's almost as if by someone else being there, it's cementing the fact that this is real. I need help. I'm getting help because I'm suffering from depression.
Plain and simple.
And so, so real.
Olivia gets to be a witness to something I wouldn't want anyone to know once again. She distracts me by intertwining her fingers with mine that are resting on the console between us.
“You don't have to be tense all the time, you know. I'm not judging you, I'm not telling anyone about this, and you have me for support. This doesn't change who you are, and no one will look at you differently for it, Corey.” Her words are softly spoken with such firm belief that I almost, almost , have a hard time not believing her myself.
My thoughts nag me anyway. How do I even know if this really changes who I am and how people view me when I don't even know who I am anymore? People do look at me differently because I don't play football anymore. If they know, there's pity in their eyes followed by, “Oh, it's a shame what happened” from their mouths. Pity that would be so much worse if they discovered how badly I've handled it. How badly I've always handled things.
Everyone's first instinct when something bad happens is to talk about it. Share it with at least one person. They know it's bad now, but things will get better. They still know where they're going in life. They still know who they are.
Me?
I run.
I stay silent.
I don't know things will get better.
I don't learn how to adjust because I don't see a way out .
I'm stuck .
I'm lost .
I lost myself and continue to lose a little more every day.
I'm buried between so many emotions that my only visible option is to shut them down and ignore them.
Without another word, I remove my hand from hers.
“You're safe from having to talk for about 90 minutes or so,” she teases after I buy our tickets for the noon showing, which starts in a few.
I chuckle, only giving her a little laugh. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Always.” Olivia shrugs.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Patrick. He's probably still pissed from when I ignored him the last time he called. I glance at Olivia.
“Take it. We have a couple minutes.”
I wish she didn't say that. With a deep breath, I answer, “Hey.”
“Hey, about time. I know you have class in a few, but I wanted to check in since you didn't answer last time. Though, I hear you talked to Luce.” I can't tell if he's happy about that or slightly irritated.
“Yeah, things are fine. I've sent y'all some more money too.” Sending money is normal and that's what he wants to hear. And things sort of are fine anyway. A small bite of guilt hits when I realize he thinks he's caught me right before a class I no longer take.
Patrick ignores the part about the money, choosing to focus on the part where things are fine. “Really?” His tone tells me exactly why I lie to them. He wants to know things are good again, just like that. He's hopeful he doesn't have to worry about me so much. He wants me to be better way faster than what's possible.
“Yes, really. Stop questioning me. I'm your older brother, don't forget that.”
Part of me expects him to laugh, but he gets serious instead. “And don't you forget that we're your family too, Corey. If it gets bad again, you need to tell us. We can help.”
I run a hand over my face. No, they can't. I'm barely able to help myself. “I'll do that,” I lie. “You all stay out of trouble. I gotta go.” When we hang up, Olivia's looking at me like she wants to say something. “Don't even think about it. Let's go watch this movie.”
We chose a comedy, and it turns out to be a really good movie. However, by the time it's over, there's not enough time for me to take Olivia home before my appointment. I'm going to have to take her with me. Even though she won't go into the back with me, it's still churning my stomach with the thought of having her there. It's almost as if by someone else being there, it's cementing the fact that this is real. I need help. I'm getting help because I'm suffering from depression.
Plain and simple.
And so, so real.
Olivia gets to be a witness to something I wouldn't want anyone to know once again. She distracts me by intertwining her fingers with mine that are resting on the console between us.
“You don't have to be tense all the time, you know. I'm not judging you, I'm not telling anyone about this, and you have me for support. This doesn't change who you are, and no one will look at you differently for it, Corey.” Her words are softly spoken with such firm belief that I almost, almost , have a hard time not believing her myself.
My thoughts nag me anyway. How do I even know if this really changes who I am and how people view me when I don't even know who I am anymore? People do look at me differently because I don't play football anymore. If they know, there's pity in their eyes followed by, “Oh, it's a shame what happened” from their mouths. Pity that would be so much worse if they discovered how badly I've handled it. How badly I've always handled things.
Everyone's first instinct when something bad happens is to talk about it. Share it with at least one person. They know it's bad now, but things will get better. They still know where they're going in life. They still know who they are.
Me?
I run.
I stay silent.
I don't know things will get better.
I don't learn how to adjust because I don't see a way out .
I'm stuck .
I'm lost .
I lost myself and continue to lose a little more every day.
I'm buried between so many emotions that my only visible option is to shut them down and ignore them.
Without another word, I remove my hand from hers.
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