It's funny how they portray mental disorders in movies either they go for the comedic angle making it more like a quirk than a disorder or extreme and dark way making it so intense and dramatic.
Mayor Depressive Disorder that's how Stephen King (Not related to the horror/suspense writer… i think?), my Psychiatrist calls it as he hands me an essay about it. "Great another disorder, maybe he and my social anxiety can get together and find new ways to screw me" I mumble
"Now now Robert, the MDD is just another disorder related to your SAD (Social Anxiety Disorder) we just need to up your medications a few and schedule more appointments with Clara" King says pushing up his glasses.
Dr. King is an excellent Psychiatrist, he cares for his patients and has been there for me for the last two years, he is a very tall fifty-ish man with grey hair and tick round glasses, it might not look like it because the doc has such a stern expression, but he's just a big nerd and loves music.
I was lost in thought when Dr. King clears his throat "Hmm, by the way Robert, Clara told me you've missed the last two appointments".
Suddenly I'm really nervous and for some reason lightheaded "ah ah emm the truth is that I was in charge of the lights on the play of my school so I was busy rehearsing".
"Robert, you need to go to your appointments with Clara, she is your psychologist, to see real improvements in your treatment you need to follow our orders" he says as he looks me in the eyes.
I know he is right, after my diagnosis I read a lot of about my disorders, treatment and medication are the only way to improve, I know that, but all the sleep deprivation and the bad feelings build up inside me, I got up and just explode "REALLY STEPHEN? IMPROVEMENTS? I'VE BEEN COMING HERE FOR THE LAST TWO YEARS OF MY LIFE, AND NOTHING IS IMPROVING, ACCEPT IT I WILL NOT GET BETTER I WILL ALWAYS BE ROBBIE SHAPIRO THE WEIRD CRAZY GUY, WHY DON'T YOU JUST SENT ME TO THE LOONY BIN?" I yell suddenly I feel dizzy so I sat down mumbling "please, I just want it to end, please" I look at Dr. King as he is telling me something, but I can't hear it, in fact slowly everything is getting dark and darker suddenly everything just stops…
I wake up in the hallway of Hollywood Arts it's a little darker than I remember. All around me, I see everyone's faces I recognize my mother, my little sister, my friends, teachers and for some weird reason I see Dr. King and my psychologist Clara.
"Oh look who's awake, the loser of Hollywood" says Tori, I try to speak, but no words come from my mouth, I look around and everyone is laughing at me. "What's the matter weirdo? Can't talk?" its Clara's turn now, and for some reason her long blond hair seems extreme long.
"You were a mistake, your little sister is so much better" says my mother, "You know we are Friends with you just to make fun of your right?" ask Beck alongside Andre "Nobody will ever love you," says Jade, Tori and Cat laugh at me. I try to run, but fail to get up, suddenly my backpack opens up and Rex crawls out of it "You will die alone, sad and crazy Robbie, not even your dad loved you, that's why he left."
Everyone's laughing again and I want to scream, deep down in my head a voice echo "they are right you know? Everything they are saying, it's the truth" with nothing left to do I begin to cry "Look he is crying, the lonely weirdo is crying" it's Trina's turn now which make the laughter louder and louder...
"Robbie, Robbie! ROBBIE!"
I suddenly wake up and see Dr. King's worry face, I touch my face and feel the wetness of my tears
"Robbie are you alright?" he asks as he hands me a glass of water
After drinking the water, I take a moment to compose myself "Ye...yeah, I'm alright, what happened? I was talking to you and then the room was spinning and everything went black"
Dr. King goes back to his chair "I have a few theories mainly the lack of food and sleep combine with the medication and your sudden outrage, but Robbie you need to tell me, this isn't the first time this happens right?" he asks as he scramble through his notes.
I stare at the floor in a mixture of fear and shame "No, it has happened a few times over the years I just though they were nightmares".
From his chair Dr. King sighs and pinch the bridge of his nose "Look Robbie, in the first session of therapy I told you, you need to tell me and Clara everything so this could work, for all I know your MDD might not be a symptom of your SAD. Instead, the catalyst for it" he explains and I could feel his disappointment in me "Lets just finish for today and I see you next week, please Robbie I know this is hard for you, but you need to open up to me, to Clara so you can improve"
I get up and shake his hand "I will try Doc, thanks for everything" Dr. King gets up and goes to his library "Before you go I have something for you to listen" he says as he hands me two CD's
"The Cure and Joy Division? aren't they like really depressing bands?" I ask, I heard some song of them before, but nothing more
Dr. King smiles "Yes, most songs are quite sad, but that's the thing you need to express your emotions, and what's a better way than music?" I smile at him "Yeah, I will try, thanks doc" and exit his office to my car (An old and broken Chevy Nova SS)
On my way home I put one of the CD's and listen to the song lyrics.
The Cure "One Hundred Years"
It doesn't matter if we all die
Ambition in the back of a black car
In a high building there is so much to do
Going home time
A story on the radio
Something small falls out of your mouth
And we laugh
A prayer for something better
A prayer
For something better
Please love me
Meet my mother
But the fear takes hold
Creeping up the stairs in the dark
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot
Fighting for freedom on the television
Sharing the world with slaughtered pigs
Have we got everything?
She struggles to get away
The pain
And the creeping feeling
A little black haired girl
Waiting for Saturday
The death of her father pushing her
Pushing her white face into the mirror
Aching inside me
And turn me round
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Caressing an old man
And painting a lifeless face
Just a piece of new meat in a clean room
The soldiers close in under a yellow moon
All shadows and deliverance
Under a black flag
A hundred years of blood
Crimson
The ribbon tightens round my throat
I open my mouth
And my head bursts open
A sound like a tiger thrashing in the water
Thrashing in the water
Over and over
We die one after the other
Over and over
We die one after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
It feels like a hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
One hundred years
