“trying to con her out of her next meal” – I read it as ‘The shrink lady is a predator, and I’m not going to let her eat me too.’
Novel Treatments / Sad Revelation
i walked in. i sat down. she looked at me, i stared back. she was old. she was grey. her hair went down to her shoulders and curled at the ends. the skin on her neck sagged, the skin on her face sagged, her boobs sagged, her eyes sagged, it was a wonder her glasses were still on her face. she observed me, i observed her. the game was set, the rules wordlessly declared, she was the hunter i was the prey, trying to con her out of her next meal.
‘so…’
‘sylvia’
‘so sylvia’
‘what?’
‘so your psychologist referred you to me, is that correct’
‘if it isn’t, i’m in the wrong place’
she glares.
i stare back
‘are you on medication?’
‘no’
‘why not?’
‘i don’t wanna fuck up my head’
‘have you ever been on medication’
‘once’
‘what was it?’
‘hypercium’
‘i see, and why did you stop’
‘i felt good.’
she jotted something down on her sterile clipboard
‘you know that leads to relapses?’
‘no shit, thats why i’m here.’
she was not amused.
she glares some more.
‘tell me how you feel’
‘i thought my doctor told you’
‘she did, i just want to hear it from you’
‘fine’
i pause. then,
‘i feel like shit. theres no nicer way to say it. when i wake up i feel like shit, when i brush my teeth i feel like shit, when i eat my breakfast i feel like shit, when i go to school i feel like shit, when i eat lunch i feel like shit, when i come home i feel like shit, when i watch tv, when i do homework, when i eat dinner, when i go to bed, I FEEL LIKE SHIT.’
‘i see.’
she jots down some more.
‘now i’m going to hand you a questionnaire, it’s true false just answer as best as you can’
‘whatever’
‘excuse me?’
‘fine’
‘alright, hold on a second’
she turns and tears apart her desk in search of the sheet of paper that determines my sanity.
she finds it. and with no real emotion hands it to me.
‘go ahead take your time’
‘i will’
it’s pinned to a clipboard with a chain connected to a pen that reads ‘cymbalta’ ha. like a depressed pen would run away. like a pen would run at all.
i look down. a little message at the top reads
‘this is a true or false questionnaire, answer the questions as best as you can, if you are unsure of an answer mark it as false’
there are 126 question.
i start.
I am unhappy
true
I often blame myself
true
Sometimes i drink so i am more confident
false
The world is against me
true
I have thought about suicide
true
My problems are caused by others
false
It’s hard for me to trust people
true
I often think about death
true
I have hurt myself
true
I hate myself
true
Suicide is the only way out
Suicide is the only way out
Suicide is the only way out.
true
i finish the rest of the questionnaire.
i hand it to the psychiatrist. her mechanical arm extends, grips, and pulls back.
Suicide is the only way out.
‘thank you’
for what, all i did was answer some shit faced questions that when looked at either way make me look like a nut case.
‘your welcome’
Suicide is the only way out.
‘you will get the results from your phycologist in about a week’
‘alright’
‘i’m going to talk to your mom now’
‘alright’
‘you can wait in the waiting room’
‘alright’
Suicide is the only way out.
she leads me back to the waiting room, drops me off their like garbage on a curb and tells my mom to haul her ass into her office. at least thats what it seems like.
i check the clock on the wall. my mom should be back in half an hour. so i wait. i’ve gotten good at waiting. i sit perfectly still, then slowly, just like always i shut myself off. my defenses are up. little men march in my head and guard what little logic i have left. i am a failure and i deserve to die. a shot in my head is fired, the thought isn’t killed. i am a failure and i deserve to die, the alarm goes off, the men take their stations. i am a failure and i deserve to die, a man in my head screams for someone to open the valve. i am a failure and i deserve to die, another man replies ‘opening valve sir’ to the first. i am a failure and i deserve to die, the room blurs with my tears. i am a failure and i deserve to die, my insides are screaming, i dig my nails into my skin and double over. i am a failure and i deserve to die, my breath is hot and heavy, my body isn’t mine. i am a failure and i deserve to die. the tears are emotional vomit and i need to stop them, i need to stop them before my mom comes back. i dig my nails deeper into my skin, i pull myself up and i breath, the men in my head are at ease. the tears stop, i wipe their traces off my face. i am a failure and i deserve to die. Suicide is the only way out.
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DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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tstone reviewed Version 1 -
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”..drops me off their..” -should be ‘there.’
your comment: “yeah… i know.” tells me you’ve read ‘a million little pieces’ – i assume???
still, very good. love the pace = relentless. good start. i’ve rated you higher than you might think..
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Weaver reviewed Version 1 -
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“she turns and tears apart her desk in search of the sheet of paper that determines my sanity.” I like this sentence. It shows (in my opinion) a subtle wry humor…
This piece really needs some work on capitalization and punctuation, but I definitely think it is worth the effort. I think it is publishable (I don’t say that often) once you fix those problems. I like the short sentences, and the use of repetition. Very effective, for a story with this subject matter. (And I happen to agree with you – I think those questionaires are designed so that any person, sane or not, can be found ‘crazy’ by the examiner.)
Booklady285 reviewed Version 1 -
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This was an intriquing read. I’m not sure if the lack of capitalization and punctuation were on purpose for effect, or if you haven’t gotten the mechanics of writing down yet. Since I don’t know, I’ll leave that part of it alone. This isn’t technically a novel treatment unless it is the first chapter of prologue. However, the story content is compelling and powerful. The terse style and use of repetition at the end worked well.
trying to con her out of her next meal. – I wasn’t quite sure what you meant here.
Overall, I think this piece had potential, and I wish you the best of luck with it.
thewizard83 reviewed Version 1 -
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Though depressing, the thoughts and emotions are conveyed well. There is talent here. The style is very unorthodox but that is the point. I feel the last paragraph was strongest. How you narrated the men in her head was a nice touch. The reiteration of ‘i am a failure and i deserve to die’, I believe, has quite the desired effect. It is blunt and that is why it works.
madissonwilliam reviewed Version 1 -
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By far, my favorite sentence in this excerpt is
“it’s pinned to a clipboard with a chain connected to a pen that reads ‘cymbalta’ ha. like a depressed pen would run away. like a pen would run at all.”
It adds just enough (dark) humor to a very serious and emotional piece to make it interesting.
Your work is amazing. You manage to take a dialogue that could feel heavy and boring and make it exciting, interesting, intense. You do an excellent job at conveying emotion.
i am a failure and i deserve to die, a man in my head screams for someone to open the valve. i am a failure and i deserve to die, another man replies ‘opening valve sir’ to the first. i am a failure and i deserve to die, the room blurs with my tears. i am a failure and i deserve to die, my insides are screaming, i dig my nails into my skin and double over. i am a failure and i deserve to die, my breath is hot and heavy, my body isn’t mine.
this section is good, and I get the need to repeat the desire to die/feeling like a failure, but it almost bogs down the last section. This feels like it should be a critical junction, but instead the reader just gets stuck in the paragraph.
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