“Please, call me Tom”
“So Gerard what seems to be the problem?” I was currently sitting across a 20 something year old, who was the ‘father’ I was supposed to talk to.He wore a casual shirt (unlikely for a churches father) and displayed a humble and kind expression. The lounge I was sitting in seemed to be caving in on me and the sofa I was sitting on was pulling me in. I was debating whether I should just make a runner and leave this ‘meeting’.
“Gerard, are you still there?” He waved his hand in front of my face, whilst chuckling to himself.
“S-sorry, um I don’t know what the problem is. I’m fine.” I replied back in a monotone voice, as I shrugged .I felt sorry for the dude, I knew I was probably going to end up being a sarcastic, pig to him. Oh well.
“Please, call me Tom. I’m not that older than you, so consider me as a friend!” Is he fucking serious? A friend?
‘Tom’ continued “-And you’re not okay. I can tell by the look in your eyes. You seem distant…and broken”
Was I really broken? I had love from my family, I guess and from the few friends I had.
No. There was not much love or happiness in my life.
Deep down I knew my family were didn’t like me and were embarrassed of me. I wasn’t normal in their eyes. For starters they never supported any of my decisions or preferences. I want to study art at college, but my parents don’t see the ‘point’ in art. Being a banker or solicitor was what they preferred. I was crap at maths and being a solicitor sounded depressing to me. They wanted me to go and play sports with other kids, but I wanted to stay indoors and read comics.
I didn’t dress the same as other boys or listen to the music my parents preferred. I usually wore metal or punk bands shirts or I sometimes added a bit of ‘glam’, from my Britpop influences. My parents did not see this as standing out from crowd, or even being creative. They found it weird. They thought the music I listened to was ‘satanic’ and my Britpop inspired outfits girly. Not wanting to upset my parents, I dressed ‘normal’, I listened to the music they wanted me to listen to (but I usually changed the crappy tracks to my liking, when they were out of sight). I know my parents wish i was more like Mikey. But little did they know Mikey enjoyed the finer perks in life, like me. I wouldn’t tell my parents he was like me, he’s my brother-I love him. Plus, at least that way they will have hope in one son.
My friends, well they’re more mutual relationships than friends. We all seemed to hang around together because we are the misfits of school and have some common interests. Half of the time we didn’t even talk to each other, we just sat around a lunch table. The awkwardness at the start was now easing off. But I couldn’t talk to any of them personally, isn’t that what friends were for?
That just leaves us with, well me.I wasn’t happy with my body image. I felt ugly and unwanted. The constant pressure of being the perfect human was stressful. I couldn’t be myself. My mind was a strange place. It was mostly filled with dark thoughts. Too dark, for a religious, 17 year old boy. My mind was foggy, I felt trapped within myself and there was no way out. The constant nightmares and migraines did not help. Sometimes the pain so much that, I wanted to get out of this hell. My life. I wanted to get rid of it. I had no happiness in my life.
I came to terms that maybe… maybe I was broken. Tom looked like a nice guy but, could I tell him what was going on in my intricate mind. I think I needed help. But what if he told my mom? She would be even more disappointed in me.
So I decided to tell him everything. I’ve never told a single soul about any of this. And I don’t know why I was telling a guy who I’ve known for about 5 minutes.
So I told him everything. After I finished speaking, I was close to tears. There was an eerie silence in the room, when Tom finally decided to speak up
“Gerard…” His expression was serious
“I’m not a therapist or anything, but it sounds like you are depressed.”
“Depressed? There’s not really a reason for me to be depressed, that’s just stupid! “I half shouted back at him
“Gerard, sometimes depression does not need a major certain cause. I think in your case it could be the absence of happiness. Also it could be about how you feel about your boy and the pressure of trying to be ‘perfect’.” Tom looked at me with caring eyes.
He was right maybe I was depressed.

Notes