"You sound like you didn't expect me to come back," Ty said with a sigh, his eyes going first to Ollie's hand before up to the man's face. He tried to remember what Dr. O'Neill had said- 'not everyone knows how to deal with depression. You have to teach him as much as he is willing to learn. If he isn't willing? Then perhaps that is another conversation to have later.'
Teach him how to deal with it? Ty almost laughed at the memory of the words. It seemed so absurd to have to teach someone how to handle his own mental illness. He reached up and scrubbed his hair before letting out a slow breath.
"I had a call to make," he said, after a moment. She'd encouraged him to be honest, to try just...talking. Not apologizing, he didn't have to apologize for a mental illness- even if he felt like he should. "Dr. O'Neill, she uh....she was my therapist in high school. Back when my parents were trying to convince Sarah and I to get along. And, um....I don't need you to say anything, okay? I don't need you to make it better, because you can't. It isn't that, it isn't that I don't appreciate the thought- just that you can't. There is literally nothing you can do, because it is all in my head. I can't control it, I can't hide it that well, apparently. I can't just flip a goddamned switch and turn it off- because God, if I could? I would. But the only off button is putting a fucking bullet through my head, and I don't...I can't....because I think if I can just make it one more hour, one more second that just maybe the switch will flip and everything will go back to normal." He said in a strained voice, before holding up his hand to forestall comment from Ollie. His fingers in his hair tightened a little, as he took a breath, trying to steady himself.
"I'm fucked up, I know that. And you tell me to open up, and that....that fucking...I'm fucked up, okay? Going to war terrified me, but it gave me something to focus on that wasn't just how fucked up I was, or how irrationally angry I was with the whole fucking world. Because I'm a goddamned Kagan, and what damned right do I have to be miserable and feel like shit? Because everyone else has it worse off than me, and being over there gave me the freedom to feel like I'd earned the right to be a little fucked up. Because it sure as hell wasn't my parents that did this, it wasn't my siblings, I wasn't bullied at school, or some short, fat kid who had no reason to feel good about himself. I wasn't begging for food, or hoping my dad didn't come home and beat the shit out of me. Hadyn has every reason to be miserable- his father, the one that raised him? Used to abuse him every day, would beat the shit out of him, would tell him how worthless he was- how he'd never amount to anything. Hadyn? Is fucking happy, my father had a fucking miserable childhood but is happy. I had a goddamned fairy tale of a childhood, and I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror half the time."
He took a ragged breath, blinking away the moisture in his eyes as he forced his fingers to loosen their grip on his hair. "So I don't need you to make it better. I have every reason for things to be fine, and none of that makes it better. Because if I had stayed there- I don't know what I'd be doing right now. I don't even know if I'd be alive. Okay? So...is that letting you in enough?" He asked, suddenly feeling exhausted.
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Teach him how to deal with it? Ty almost laughed at the memory of the words. It seemed so absurd to have to teach someone how to handle his own mental illness. He reached up and scrubbed his hair before letting out a slow breath.
"I had a call to make," he said, after a moment. She'd encouraged him to be honest, to try just...talking. Not apologizing, he didn't have to apologize for a mental illness- even if he felt like he should. "Dr. O'Neill, she uh....she was my therapist in high school. Back when my parents were trying to convince Sarah and I to get along. And, um....I don't need you to say anything, okay? I don't need you to make it better, because you can't. It isn't that, it isn't that I don't appreciate the thought- just that you can't. There is literally nothing you can do, because it is all in my head. I can't control it, I can't hide it that well, apparently. I can't just flip a goddamned switch and turn it off- because God, if I could? I would. But the only off button is putting a fucking bullet through my head, and I don't...I can't....because I think if I can just make it one more hour, one more second that just maybe the switch will flip and everything will go back to normal." He said in a strained voice, before holding up his hand to forestall comment from Ollie. His fingers in his hair tightened a little, as he took a breath, trying to steady himself.
"I'm fucked up, I know that. And you tell me to open up, and that....that fucking...I'm fucked up, okay? Going to war terrified me, but it gave me something to focus on that wasn't just how fucked up I was, or how irrationally angry I was with the whole fucking world. Because I'm a goddamned Kagan, and what damned right do I have to be miserable and feel like shit? Because everyone else has it worse off than me, and being over there gave me the freedom to feel like I'd earned the right to be a little fucked up. Because it sure as hell wasn't my parents that did this, it wasn't my siblings, I wasn't bullied at school, or some short, fat kid who had no reason to feel good about himself. I wasn't begging for food, or hoping my dad didn't come home and beat the shit out of me. Hadyn has every reason to be miserable- his father, the one that raised him? Used to abuse him every day, would beat the shit out of him, would tell him how worthless he was- how he'd never amount to anything. Hadyn? Is fucking happy, my father had a fucking miserable childhood but is happy. I had a goddamned fairy tale of a childhood, and I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror half the time."
He took a ragged breath, blinking away the moisture in his eyes as he forced his fingers to loosen their grip on his hair. "So I don't need you to make it better. I have every reason for things to be fine, and none of that makes it better. Because if I had stayed there- I don't know what I'd be doing right now. I don't even know if I'd be alive. Okay? So...is that letting you in enough?" He asked, suddenly feeling exhausted.