Me and my mother are sitting quietly in the corner of the same office I'd visited for the last seven years of my life. I yawn and lean back, crossing my arms. My mom glances over at me and looks down at my arms but she doesn't gaze to long before looking away again. I never understood why it was so hard for her to just look at them. They are just scars. Of course, she didn't have the conformation that they were those type of scars but I can pretty much sum up that she already knows. It's like she's waiting on me to tell her. Not happening.
  "So, are you excited to talk to Dr. Maverick today?" My mom ask, still not looking at me. She had her eyes glued to the coffee machine across the office room.
"Not necessarily." I mutter, knowing that she didn't hear me. She adjust her position in her chair and clears her throat.
"You could have dressed a little more...appropriate?" She says, as if it was up for debate. I wore what I chose, that was if I even decided to put together an outfit. Today I am wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a ripped up crop top with a black zip-up over it. Not to mention my beat up, five year old converses, with sharpie writing all over the soles, things like music lyric and names from my friends.
"When do I go back to school?" I ask, looking over at my mother, her blonde hair glimmering in the morning sun that shined through the window.
"I'm not sure. Ask your doctor when they call you back dear," she says, not paying much attention to me as she opens her purse and starts digging around. I curse under my breath and pull my hoodie up and over my head, pulling it down to rest over my eyes.
It feels like an eternity goes by before finally a nurse comes to call me back.
My mom gives me a small nod as the nurse calls out my name and I pull my hoodie off to glare at her.
"Zara kitchens?" She says happily. As if anything in this office was anything other than depressing and unappealing. I stand up, walking towards the back door. The devil's door it felt like sometime. Whenever I come back here, maverick goes on to tell me how the chemical imbalance is what's making me feel the way I do. Then he'll prescribe me new medication, that will eventually stop working. Then I'll have another panick attack. End back up at home, until the process repeats. Wash, rinse, repeat.
"Zara?" Some one says my name from far away, I shake my head, coming back from deep thought.

It was Mr. Maverick, sitting behind that wooden desk with the damn stress ball on it. I don't know why but that stress ball always seemed to piss me off. I don't even remember walking in here but I brush off the realization, I was disassociating again.
"Yeah" I respond, looking up at him. My green eyes resting on his blue ones from across the room. I always sat on the window seat, never in front of his desk at those stupid chairs. I hated sitting there, I felt so raw so... Exposed and like I was attracting every inch of light in the room, it made my skin crawl.
"It seems that the zoloft didn't work this time?" He ask, tilting his glasses down. "What do you think we should do now?"
I sigh, looking out the window. I bite my tongue, I want to scream at him, show him the marks, I want to cut open my pain and spill it out for him to carry.
"I dunno." I respond, shrugging. It was how I always answered his dumbass questions.
"Can you tell me some things that the zoloft made you feel or do?" He says, watching my expression carefully as one hand help a pen above a note pad.
I look over at him and shrug again.
"It made me feel anxious. And nervous. And I felt like I couldn't breathe" I mumble.
He nods and quickly jots down what I say. Before looking back up at me.
"Did it make you have any thoughts of suicide or self harm?"
I subconsciously rub my arms before looking back out the window and answering him.
"No."
He nods again, scribbling down my answers.
"And how about aggression? Did you want to hurt anyone else? Or think homicidal thoughts at all?"
Unless you count the one of how I wanna take that stress ball and shove it down your throat, I think no.
"No" I answer quietly.
After he finishes, he sighs and takes his glasses off, setting them down on the desk. "So, we are gonna try a new medication. Lamictal, it's a antidepressant and it will help with your chronic anxiety and your bipolar depression. We are gonna keep you on your normal OCD medication as they seem to be working for you for now." Mr. Maverick tells me, looking at me.
I nod, standing up and heading for the door. I needed to leave already, I was feeling caged by now. I hated the doctors office.
"You'll go back to school in two months. The thing is, with trying lamictal is that there is a chance your chemical imbalance is to strong for this medication and you could have another panic attack or become dangerously aggressive during an episode." He says gently, my heart shatters. I have to stay at home, with Rebecca, and my stepfather for a whole month. I was going to actually have a panick attack at the idea.
I nod before walking out the office without another word to him.

Finally as we arrive back home, I slip out the car and make my way inside and up the stairs to my room. I lock the door behind me and immediately crawl into my bed. This was the only place that I felt safe in any more. I pull my duvet over my head and bury my face Into pillows. New meds. Month at home. This was going to be a long few weeks. I pull my phone out my jacket pocket and unlock it. Several messages from my friends asking why I wasn't at school. Of course I hadn't told them a thing about my bipolar depression or any of that stuff. I didn't want them treating me like someone who was made of glass. Like I was going to break at any moment. Like my mother.
I yawn and turn my phone back off, putting it under my pillow and slowly curling into a ball before closing my eyes. The images of the office flicker through my mind and I grimace. I wish I could just be normal. Why did I have to be so messed up? I didn't choose this? I didn't want to be here in the first place.
Slowly, I start to fall asleep, my mind finally coming to a rest. Moments later, I'm completely drifted into a light sleep.