"You've been doing so well so far this year, I really don't want to see your grades slip, TJ."

His remedial English teacher asked to speak with him after school. TJ sat in front of her desk, attempting to look like he was paying attention, but her voice sounded so far away, he was barely able to make out what she was saying. Just enough to answer her questions.

Idiot.

Lazy.

"There's still plenty of time to bring your grades back up, and I want you to keep that in mind," she said. "I wanted to have this talk with you before it was too late. You certainly don't want to go to summer school, do you?"

TJ shook his head. He didn't want to go to school in general. The farther he could get away from this place, the better.

ZZ

His attention was immediately on the bucket of Legos in Dr. Sage's office. TJ sat on the floor this time, building nothing in particular. He just didn't want to look his therapist in the eyes. He didn't want to look anyone in the eyes.

"How have you been feeling lately, TJ?"

He shrugged, connecting another piece to the pile in his hand. TJ heard Dr. Sage write something down.

He's judging you.

Pathetic.

Lost cause.

Waste of time.

"Do you remember our last meeting?" Dr. Sage asked. "You have to talk here, or I can't help you. We want to help you, TJ."

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled.

"And why do you say that?"

"I've been feeling the same as last week. And the week before that. And the week before that. Maybe worse. Definitely worse." TJ pulled apart the small plastic segments. "It doesn't matter. It hasn't gotten better."

"We're trying to make it better-"

"It hasn't worked, Dr. Sage," he interrupted. "It hasn't worked, so why would it work now? It's never going to. It doesn't matter. None of this-" He waved his hands around the office. "matters. It doesn't make a difference, Dr. Sage."

"TJ, we've talked about this. This is a process. It's going to take time, and that time matters," Dr. Sage explained. "You matter."

No I don't.

Liar.

"You have been taking you medication, right?"

"Yeah," said TJ. "Same time every night."

"Have you felt any changes with the increased dose?"

TJ shrugged. "No."

"Perhaps you need a supplement to help, or a different medication altogether. One might work wonders for some, but not at all for others."

Like so many voices before, Dr. Sage's faded out as TJ couldn't stand to pay attention. It faded away, like water was filling his ears or he was drifting away. Dr. Sage meant well, TJ knew that, but right now, he didn't want to hear what he had to say.

ZZ

He poked at the food in front of him, and moved it back and forth on the plate. He took a few bites, but didn't have it him to eat anymore. While he stared downwards, TJ felt his parents eyes on him worried. This was far from the first time he was like this at dinner, but it was the first time it was like this for so many days in a row.

"TJ, you have to eat something," his mother said gently. TJ forced himself to take another bite, but nothing more. He wasn't hungry. He hasn't been hungry for a while.

Wasteful.

Ungrateful.

Pitiful.

He just wanted to sleep.

"I'm not that hungry," he said. "Can I take my medicine and go to bed?"

"Are you sure you're not hungry? You barely ate anything," his mom said. TJ nodded. "Alright, I'll wrap up your dinner if you get hungry later."

He moved from the table, and to the small cabinet that held the small orange medicine bottle. After two pills down and a swallow of water, TJ left the kitchen and went to his room to be alone.