Some call it pain.
Others call it gain.
People think I'm insane,
Because I laugh and play in the rain.
I wrote down the words with such precision but without much thought. They came naturally, from me... Oh should I say from my heart? Or mind? Depending on which one you think is more superior.
"Now fold your little notes and drop them in the basket." Emmy, the councilor instructed.
I had only been in rehab for four days now and it all felt stupid. I didn't think I was going crazy bit everyone else seemed to think so. Its not the drugs that were ruining me. It was my own life that did that for me.
But I went through each day for Ryan. I owed him that.
"If everyone's done with their poems, I'd like for us to play a game called 'share and care' "
Share and care? I repeated the words in my mind, happy to be doing something new. She was obviously tired of the 'get to know me' sessions as much as we were.
"Who wants to go first?" Emmy asked.
"What are we supposed to do or say?" I, for the first time, voluntarily spoke.
"Oh! My bad," Emmy exhaled, "Avery, you're new here." She said the words like she was talking about some school institution and not a rehabilitation facility. She kept talking anyway... "Share and care is basically were we speak about how taking drugs made us feel."
Us? From where I was standing... She looked like little miss perfectra who had an Amazing childhood and a loving family. Good of her to compare herself with us.
"Who came up with that pathetic name?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Emmy remained composed. Must have been something she learnt from her perfect upbringing. What we call being 'professional' these days... I may sound too judgmental but I'm not. I'm just observant.
"I did." She answered, "It was either that or 'how do drugs make you feel game' I don't know about you but I think 'share and care's is a lot shorter and a lot less pathetic. " she winked.
I liked her.
"Now who wants to go first so Avery gets a taste of what this is all about?"
One, two, three, four, I counted the seconds in my mind.
"Anyone?" Emmy urged.
Seven, eight, nine, ten...
"Let met start." My sudden participation clearly shocked everyone, "Uhm, how do drugs make me feel?"
"Made." Emmy corrected, "How drugs made you feel. You don't do them anymore remember?"
A part of me liked the sound of that. I don't do drugs.
"Yes..." I continued, "how drugs made me feel. They made me feel like a superhero." Eyebrows were raised in confusion, "You know, that moment when you feel like you can fly or you have superhuman strength. Like you could jump over a building without a care in the world like nothing would happen to you. You feel like..."
"Like you could somehow cure world hunger," someone cut me short, "or try out for the football team even though you're well aware that you have a missing limb."
It was Sandy. (Not his real name.)
I called him that (in my head) because he had long hair that he almost always tied into a man bun and yes... It obviously had the colour of sand. I can't explain it. It just did.
"Yes Diondre." His real name, "Just like that." I smiled at how easily he joked about his amputated leg. I had no idea what had happened to him and I didn't want to know because knowing such things about people builds bonds and when they break, you have to deal with mess and heart ache.
"Drifting." Ed took over. I still didn't know if it was a shortcut of his actual name but everyone called him Ed, "I think it feels more like drifting. A bit like the superhero idea except in that fantasy, the truth is you don't have superpowers and if you do jump off a building, you'll just be the next dead guy on the news."
Morbid right?
"I call it drifting because it sort of feels like floating in space. Like you're alone in a mass of nothingness. You feel dark and empty like you probably always do but now... now you're okay with it. Now its barrable because you're not afraid of being alone."
"Ce la vie." Emmy broke the silence. "Those were good points of view. " she looked at Ed and I one at a time.Â
One by one, mouths opened and closed. I didn't pay attention to what they were all saying. All I thought of was what Ed, the thin, quiet, black haired boy had said.
He'd called it drifting. I had always believed that people like me tried getting another high so they could run from who they were or from their shitty lives. Ed could be right.
Maybe we don't realize it but we do it so we can be alone with ourselves. Alone without the fear of being alone.
Its Crazy. Strange even but maybe its not too far fetched.