“How was it?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. I watch him twist the match in his calloused fingers, letting it burn all the way. As always, he misreads my curious gaze as impatient and quickly throws the charred remains in the fresh snow. He thinks I hate his habits and well-rehearsed patterns. But he’s wrong; I love everything about him. I’m certain we’re soul mates, halves of the same whole. I’m a fretting, nervous college junior who blames all her failures on ADD, he’s obsessed with details and applying logic to life. We complete each other perfectly. The fear of losing this, losing him, makes me hesitate, but I know I must be honest.
“Pretty bad,” I start. “Manic depression with anxiety attacks.”
Adam doesn’t say a word, he just hugs me. Next to his jacket, in his strong arms, I feel better. He makes everything better.
“They say that with the right meds it’s going to be fine. Plenty of people have some sort of problem like this, especially college students. You know, because of the stress.”
Adam nods slowly but I know he doesn’t understand. His life is one single, clear line with no time for such nonsense as anxiety or stressing out. It’s times like this that I feel we live on different planets. However, his lips on my forehead remind me he is there, close to me, no matter what. After a deep breath, I go on.
“The problem is that it could be schizophrenia.” The words are finally out and I suddenly feel distant and alone. It feels like a slow-paced movie I follow with mild interest. The words replay in my head and I analyze how natural they sound, you could never guess I cried the whole night.
0 comments:
Post a Comment