She Crazy
A short story on madness and truth
“She’s going through that phase again,” said Mom to Dad, shaking her head.
Mom didn’t know I could eavesdrop on their conversations late at night. She was clueless about many things in life, but that specific thing was the one thing I needed her to believe. However, she didn’t.
Sofia, my younger sister, was the star of the family, with trophies bigger than her head and a natural tendency to the spotlight.
On the other hand, I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise. From an early age, I had been seen by psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, and school counselors. I wasn’t able to focus on anything for more than five minutes. So at first, I was diagnosed with ADHD. Then Mom and Dad were told by Ms. Summers in second grade that I was deliberately hurting my own fingers by sticking them into the pencil sharpener. I was then counseled again. I can’t even remember the name of the diagnosis.
And it kept going. Anxiety, depression, ADHD, other weird named diagnoses, and finally, paranoia. I was now an eighteen-year-old high school senior, full of mental baggage.
Last week, I sat in Dr. Walter’s divan for the hundredth time, and I finally gave up.
“Fine,” I said, puffing. “If you think I’m paranoid, just prescribe me something…
