AN/ It's starting off slow I guess, a little bit grey but this has lots of romance too loool its rated M :F who would have guessed right? loool I Hope you enjoy and don't find it as tedious? (Because of how it starts) I would love you to give it time and well read it slowly and all but meh, whatever is fine :D
Grammar, typos, spelling mistakes, I'm sorry, I want this out already lmao. It's from Jazz' POV. To be rightfully honest, the story wasn't planned to start here so this is the newest scene I've written for the story. However I hope it's well-explained and fits with the rest.
Enjoy!
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The Backwater Gospel
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"Jazz." He nodded as I seated. "Please get comfortable."
"Thanks."
He smiled cordially at me, "It's good to see you." I didn't respond, my poise screeched irritation "I know things haven't gone as planned with the medications I last prescribed." He held the greenish papers up for his eyes and then placed them on his left "Today we'll revise your diagnosis and we will follow a new treatment."
I gasped uncooperatively, "A new diagnosis?" I frowned, "For real?"
"My deepest apologies as the professional I am, this case of yours was a little bit trickier than I initially expected."
"A little bit trickier?" I repeated, his words went beyond my indignation, "Is this for real?"
He sighed in overthrow, "I promised to help you, I'm aware of my mistakes as the provider of this."
"This isn't an itsy-bitsy mistake, what the fuck?" my scowl showed my disdain "For fucking starter's hell-doctor, I'm fucking done with this crap."
"Jazz," his tone remained serious, his façade didn't seem shocked at my outburst, "I'm really sorr-"
"Miss me with that bullshit!" I snapped. I was not-so-gradually getting distraught.
"Jazz, please, you need to calm do-"
"Relax a little?" I smirked mordantly, my wrath boiled as reasons popped, "This shit ain't tiring, Jeez no." I taunted sarcastically, he remained quiet as my brazen voice became louder, "I've not gone through enough shit fucking son of a bitch!"
"That's not what I'm trying to say," he unperturbedly said. "However I will ask you to calm down."
"Because you are fucking sorry? I've been a fucking martyr these last two months."
He dipped his head again, his voice was unshaken, "I'm aware of the complications, I'm aware of the secondary effects of the medications."
"You are aware." I repeated defiantly, "Therefore you are sorry you fucked me up."
"I apologi-"
"Your fucking apologies won't return my sleep," I growled, "They won't take away these intrusive thoughts that scare the shit out of me and they won't return my fucking energy, I'm absolutely drained, weak to the bone; I can't even open a fucking jar." I listed, brazenly fuming, I decided not to hold back "Your apologies won't take back those tests I failed because I couldn't concentrate enough, I'm in fucking college, I'm a fucking adult, I need my fucking brain to function and you've done nothing but fuck it up! Those shitty headaches, those cold-ass goosebumps at night."
I continued, aggravated to the core "You're apologies don't take a single shit from this, from all the shit I've gone through. If you are just as incompetent to change my diagnosis every two months then fucking leave this shit alone, as far as I knew I was absolutely okay before all this crap even started!"
"We won't leave this Jazz, this is important. You said so yourself, you need a healthy brain to function. I'll be more precise, I assure y-"
"Assure me fucking what? That this time it will work? That this time I won't vomit every fucking meal I try to digest? What the fuck is this? A cooking lab? Am I your unpaid tester?"
Dr. Wakaki allowed me to curse until I stopped to refrain my thoughts, he slowly interfered my bashing as I breathed in fumes "For the last time, you need to calm yourself Jazz or I'll leave this session for next Monday and I won't sign your attendance."
Tongue on teeth and before my sealed lips could open once more, I abruptly refrained myself, I closed my eyes and my hands went to the back of my neck as I breathed in. I heard him speak "I understand your desire to vent, but any emotional flux or volatility might further harm you." He waited patiently for me to remain quiet and then he proceeded, "I would also like to remind you that you are legally bounded to cooperate with me and thus far I've scarcely seen that, let alone I've grasped any interest from you."
"Oh it's my fault now? Fucking yes because I refused to take every fucking medications you prescribed me. No, don't mind me, I didn't do my fucking best to cooperate. " I was been acidly ironic.
"A misdiagnose in these odd cases is not that rare. Nothing will compensate the struggles you've faced but if we get to the right diagnosis and if it happens to be just-in-time then everything will be worth the fight."
"The fight, My fucking fight better say" I laughed acrimoniously, I took another deep breath and then slumped against the couch; my hand dismissed the discussion altogether, "You know what? Whatever you fucking say. Go ahead."
He scribbled something down on his open folder and after a full-silent minute he finally commented "I'm aware that only two months ago I prescribed you a new medication and I also gave you a new diagnosis. I know it only worsened your condition. Today, like I said, I will revise the diagnosis, reconsider the prescription and will see if that's what we need for your improvement."
"Pff." I rolled up my eyes in annoyance.
"I will ask you to try to change your negative perspective and start seeing me as someone who can help you, if you let me help you."
I exhaled but his voice filled the silence once more "I've heavily respected your privacy throughout this process," he paused tentatively, "in my defense, I thought I was facing an illness I had figured out by experience, and I also thought that how I normatively treated said illness would be perfect for what I presumed you were experiencing."
He explained, "I simply saw no necessity in snooping through details of what you saw. This, as a professional is well- very unprofessional."
"What does that mean?"
"That I deeply apologize because regarding the illness, I know nothing about what you see, sense and hear. I diagnosed you while not prying much into your delusions."
"Delusions." I scoffed.
"Yes." He asserted confidently.
I stared at my knuckles for a while, I waited for stillness to ask "…Didn't you say you misdiagnose me? Does that means I'm not schizophrenic… after all?"
"You are. But maybe not in the Paranoid spectrum as I contemplated."
I shrugged my shoulders fairmindedly, "Whatever."
"Mhm," he nodded, "Today Jazz, I will know who is this entity that your illness has led you to believe is in a romantic relationship with you."
…
"Aha. Does that mean I'll be able to sleep?"
He stared at me through his clear spectacles "We'll do our best."
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AN/ Won't comment further until the end of the story. Just to clear any possible doubt about the time: This Doctor 'Dr. Wakaki ' has been treating him since 6 months ago, the last 'diagnose change' he did was two months ago. Meaning he- at least, changed Jazz' diagnose twice already.
The title was taken from a short animation that has nothing to do with it or the plot or nothing, I'll comment on this later.
