Good Evening, Irene
Chapter 1
I hate being here.
I despise being anywhere but here.
My university.
Words can’t explain the hatred I have for this college. Not even numbers can.
I . Absolutely. Hate. It.
I am very contemplative when it comes to life but sincerely I am not. I am not thoughtful nor enjoying my life.
To my friends, who thought I was enjoying my high class life.
To my neighbor, who thinks I was born with a silver spoon.
To my parents, who thought I couldn’t make it.
To my siblings, who believed in me and encouraged me.
A break.
After a very long one. With my college friends and roommates.
Partying all day, everyday. Wine by night and blue molly by morning, a very messed up routine if you ask me.
Of course, we all drink and relish all types of alcohol and drugs. We are in university for heaven’s sake and it is very regular for us.
What is genuinely astonishing is that nobody has ever caught us doing this unseemly stuff.
I see where the school students are coming from when they avow that school is a nightmare and a place where you will start dealing with emotional stress and anxiety.
As a 26-year-old, who is in her last year of university, I can proudly say that I have gone through every possible emotional/physical/financial crisis and have experienced all the five stages of grief.
My high school was blissful, all the teachers adored me, the students showed a lot more affection and my friends were nurturing and loving. An idyllic high school.
At least that’s what I thought.
There is a moment in life which certain people might have encountered where you rethink all your childhood past and find some unpleasant memories. As someone who is taking psychology, I have experienced a ton.
Moments that I knew my childhood was not divine. Moments that I knew that my high school was not idyllic. Moments that I knew my parents were not stimulating. Moments that I knew that my friends were not comforting. Moments that I knew that everything can’t be perfect.
Not everything is perfect. Even if something or someone is perfect, there is a secret.
A secret, that is a fault builded up in that something or someone.
Maturity. That’s when I realized everything. About everyone. About my past. Everything.
Maturity is a game changer and I comprehended that during my college years.
But what hurts me to know is that many youngsters and high schoolers nowadays are sustaining such emotional distress and suffering from mental illness everyday. Every single day.
Being a psychologist somewhat makes me elated and exuberant.
Excited to help the people who are in need. Excited to help the community with mental stress. Excited to help the students deal with their stress and anxiety issues.
I am not perfect. I never was.
I wish I was perfect. But nobody is.
I desire to be that nobody.
I sound extremely selfish and needy but all I could ponder about is that whether I was perfect or not, people would consider me the same way. So, why be perfect? I learned that the hard way.
So many thoughts, so many intrusive and oblivious thoughts are running through my mind.
Follow your heart.
I did.
I followed my heart. I believed in my heart. But your heart is not always right, sometimes.
In other times, your mind is the right one to depend on.
Sometimes.
But what if we are dejected and hopeless?
Who will we listen to then? Who will we follow? Who will we believe in?
Those puzzled thoughts are what is filled in my brain and it runs and runs until it stops and skips away but presently, it just got interrupted.
“What are you thinking so intensely?” Ava asks bluntly, as she tastes a mouthful of rum in a martini glass and twirls the empty glass in her left arm.
I shake my head slowly, absent minded.
“Good stuff.” Ava uttered indicating those words to the bottle of rum which is now being poured onto her glass.
She filled her glass with the rum that was left in the flagon and turned her attention back to me before gulping down the drink.
“Do you not want it?” She asks, glancing at the beverage poured in the same martini glass for me.
She studied me for a while to see me fiddling with my own hands, caught up in my own world inside my mind.
“I want to stay sober today, you can take this as well”
I say flatly, distracted as I push the glass in front me towards her.
As much as I would like to stop drinking alcohol, I can’t. It’s too late. Now, I am nothing but an addict but I’m flabbergasted that I could say no towards it.
I should perhaps keep this up to stay away from any unhealthy alcohol. Or any drugs.
“I apologize. I keep getting preoccupied lately. It’s my fault for calling you in and not giving you the gratification you want.” I say, with a little sympathy shining in my eyes through my glasses to make it seem like I was.
In reality, I wanted her away.
Not that I don’t like her, I do love her presence but currently, I need some alone time. Without her occupancy.
“Sign of ADHD, love. I’ll leave you alone” she says, laughing without humor while getting up from her seat.
She started walking to the exits and opened the door to leave, before she does, she says
“Keep yourself amused” she says with an ear to ear, eerie grin plastered on her face.
I know what she means by “amused”.
I haven’t had any pleasure for a while. I want to stay modest for awhile now. And maybe, maybe
Just go back to who I was but at present time, I want to stay decent. For now.
Just as I was about to clean up the mess, there was a fair knock on the door which slightly startled me. I placed the glasses in the sink as I made my way to the entrance, expecting Ava on the door, in case she neglected something at my house.
But my instinct was wrong and my stomach flipped over to see none other than Azael standing in front me with a soft smile.
“Good evening, Irene.”
