Chapter 43: Psychiatrist
Rising from my bed in the early hours of the morning, well before the sun began its ascent, I hastily reached for my tracksuit and slipped it on. Stepping out of the house, I began to run for miles. With each inhale, my lungs grew heavier. Eventually, I found myself unable to push forward any longer, sitting down on the first bench I saw.
"Ah, yes. That whore of a psychologist surely told my 'depressed' state to the psychiatrist," I mused, a sly grin forming on my lips. "With this knowledge in mind, I will play my part flawlessly."
The early awakening serves a purpose; my eyes, tinged with the darkness of weariness, will appear as if I couldn't sleep Also, I didn't shower for days, neglecting basic hygiene will convey a lack of motivation, an undeniable marker of depression. The hurried sprint I undertook will leave drenched in sweat, further accentuating my destroyed state. Such deliberate tactics will undoubtedly nudge the psychiatrist toward perceiving as truly depressed.
Standing up from the bench still tired I walked ho. Once inside, I hastily rummaged through my wardrobe, deliberately selecting clothing that had been hanging untouched for years—forgotten relics of a forgotten ti. These worn and faded garnts would further contribute to the carefully crafted facade I intended to present.
Just as I was about to depart, my mother, woke from her sleep, her silhouette erging from the dark room where my father remained asleep. Casting a confused gaze upon , she questioned the reason behind my early awakening.
"I'm heading to the psychiatrist," I whispered softly, mindful not to disturb my father who still slept soundly.
My mother hugged and kissed before I closed the door and went to the hospital again. I grew tired of the seemingly endless visits to the hospital. Days that could have been dedicated to grow my still small empire were instead spent in the company of psychologists and now psychiatrists, draining both my ti and potential money.
Stepping into his office within the hospital, I noticed a stark contrast from the psychologist's space. The room appeared remarkably ordinary, and the psychiatrist himself was an aged gentleman. As I entered, he offered a polite greeting and gestured for to take a seat.
And so, my act began.
"I've been inford about your situation by Doctor Edna, so I'll go over a few questions regarding your feelings and any improvents you may have experienced," he stated matter-of-factly.
I was taken aback, expecting a more comforting and empathetic approach. His straightforward manner made question his professionalism and left feeling sowhat uneasy. I had prepared myself for a more challenging endeavor in obtaining the antidepressant dication. However, I couldn't deny that it was actually better for and my purpose.
With a hint of timidity in my voice, I began to describe the typical emotions and experiences of a depressed teenager. The psychiatrist diligently asked probing questions for around ten minutes before closing his book and delivering his verdict.
"Alright, Dionis, I have heard enough. Your psychologist has already evaluated you, so I won't delve into that. Based on the information I have gathered, I am diagnosing you with depression. You will be prescribed antidepressant dication, which you must take twice a day without missing a single dose."
"What?" I exclaid, my shock evident. I had expected a lengthy process with countless sessions before receiving a diagnosis.
The psychiatrist responded calmly, "You will be prescribed with an SSRI. Since you are still a teenager, it's best to avoid heavy dications. Now, if you could please provide with your dical insurance card."
Surprised but compliant, I handed him the card. He scanned it and swiftly typed down so information on his computer before instructing , "Dionis, go downstairs where you will find a pharmacy. Enter it, and they will provide you with your dication."
"Alright, thank you, sir," I replied with excitent, clutching the card in my hand as I swiftly left his office.
Entering the pharmacy, I approached the counter, where a friendly pharmacist greeted . "Hello, how can I assist you today, sir?" she asked.
"Hello, I'm here to pick up the dication my doctor prescribed," I responded.
"Oki dookie! Just give your insurance card," she requested.
I hesitated for a mont, unsure why, before reluctantly handing it over. "The doctor ntioned sothing about an SSRI, but I may be mistaken," I inford her.
With a chuckle, the pharmacist reassured , "Hahaha, sir, that's precisely why I took your insurance card. The doctors write down the necessary prescription information on it."
"Ohhh."
She grabbed the dicine and handed it over to .
Upon returning ho, I relished the newfound freedom I had engineered. My parents, now under the impression of my supposed depression, ceased their inquiries and ceased to bother about attending school. Skipping classes beca a trivial matter as I effortlessly blad my absence on my fabricated condition.
To maintain the lie, I disposed of two antidepressant pills daily, sneakily discarding them into a nearby river. This ticulous act ensured that my parents, should they inspect the dication bottle, would discover the deceptive illusion of faithfully "consuming" the prescribed pills. Little did they know, the truth floated away, concealed by the currents, while I continued my deceptive dance undetected.
It's amazing how I turned an unexpected and an unwanted situation into sothing that benefits .
A couple of days after the visit of the psychiatrist, while engrossed in my books one evening, I received an unexpected call from Eman. His voice buzzed with excitent as he extended an invitation for to join him and our friends, emphasizing a Tekken tournant accompanied by drinks and food.
"Yo, Dionis! It's been a while since we've hung out. Co over, my parents are out today, all the boys are here. We're chilling and planning to have a Tekken tournant. Drinks, food, the whole deal. Co on, bro!"
I responded with an excited tone, "Hell yea, I'm coming!" before promptly ending the call.
I headed straight to Eman's house, and upon opening the door, I was greeted by the presence of all my n. They excitedly exclaid, "Boss! Co sit here," making room for in the center of the couch.
The atmosphere was electric, filled with the camaraderie of friends. Boys were scattered throughout the room—so sitting on the couch, others on the floor, so standing, so screaming, so drinking, so eating, and so engrossed in playing Tekken. We launched into a Tekken tournant, continuing to play through the night and into the morning, until a winner was decided, and it was...
So background character.
It was around 3AM and all of the boys scattered ho leaving and Eman in his house alone.
"Yo, can I sleep here tonight." I asked, feeling too lazy to walk back ho.
"Sure," he replied, glancing around at the ss we had created during the night. "We just need to clean up this shit up."
"Here" Without hesitation, I pulled out a 20-dollar bill from my pocket and offered it to him. "Clean it alone."
"Dude, why do you think everyone and everything can be bought with money?" He asked while picking up the alcohol bottles off the floor.
I shrugged casually. "I don't believe that everything can be bought with money," I remarked dismissively. "The only reason I bother making money is, so I can relieve myself from these tedious tasks."
"Tsk, fine." he muttered, standing up from the floor and grabbing my money out of my hands.
A mischievous thought crept into my mind, accompanied by a wide grin. "See, Eman? You fucking monkey. Everything can be bought with money," I silently taunted, reveling in my perceived superiority as I observed him cleaning up the ss.
After completing the cleaning, Eman instructed to make myself comfortable and sleep in his parents' bedroom. Eagerly, I entered the room to find a grand king-size bed, which filled with excitent. Unable to contain my enthusiasm, I couldn't resist the temptation—I leaped onto the bed, relishing the indulgence of its size and softness. The plush mattress and the anticipation of a peaceful night's rest brought a sense of joy and contentnt.
laying down on the bed, I stripped down to my underwear, seeking comfort.
I put my phone on the night table charging it and covering myself with the comfortable blanket. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, ready to drift into a peaceful sleep.
[RING] [RING]
Suddenly, the sound of my phone ringing shattered the tranquility of the room.
"Who the fuck is calling this late. Ugh, this is so annoying," I grumbled, reaching for my phone to see the caller ID.
"Eva? Why the fuck is she calling so late." I wondered, answering my phone to see what the late-night disturbance was about.
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