Defying the Crown

Chapter 1

Daniel

“Daniel are you still with me?” my therapist Michael asks, glancing at me from across his notebook.

My eyes jerk up to meet his, realizing that he’s caught me drifting away again. I’ve been staring at the abstract painting on the wall behind him, losing myself in the swirls of color and my thoughts.

“Yes, sorry. I’m listening.”

“I don’t think you were,” he says with a frown. “If you aren’t going to take these sessions seriously, why are you even bothering to come here?”

I hesitate, scrambling to find an answer that will appease him. “It’s not that I don’t care. I just sometimes zone out and get lost in my head.”

He pauses for a moment, considering my words. “And what gets you lost in there?”

His question is simple, but the answer isn’t.

I could tell him about the constant loop of failures playing in my mind.

I could tell him about the loneliness that clings to me like a second skin.

I could tell him about the voice that whispers I’m not good enough, that I’m unlovable, that I’m a burden.

But instead, I hold that back because I don’t think I want to give a voice to those feelings.

That would make them real, and then I would have to deal with them.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about work, and my boss. She has been on my case lately, and it has been stressing me out a bit.”

It’s not a lie, really. Cassandra has been riding me hard ever since I came back from my medical leave last year.

She’s always on my back, nitpicking every little thing I do.

I can feel my mind starting to spiral just thinking about her, about the leave, about why I needed it in the first place.

I yank myself back from that dark path before I go too far down it.

“Well, all in all, I would say that’s a normal thing to be worried about,” Michael says, his calmly reassuring English accent grounding me. “You don’t need to stress yourself out over these things, I’m sure you’re excellent at your job.”

I smile back hollowly, going along with him and nodding my head. I know I’m not excellent at my job. I’m barely holding on, just going through the motions. But I don’t tell him that.

“Have you given any thought to what we discussed our last session? I think that you could benefit from being able to discuss your feelings with someone other than me,” he says, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I have been thinking about it. I don’t know that I feel comfortable talking to strangers online about my life, and what happened.” Talking about what happened last year makes me feel timid and small, and you can hear it in my voice.

Michael sighs, leaning forward with a kind expression.

“Daniel, we’ve been seeing each other for over a year now.

In that time, I’ve seen you make great strides.

Yet, you’re stuck on this until you’ve fully processed it.

You can’t move on until you let yourself feel everything your mind wants you to feel.

Maybe this website can do that for you; what’s the harm in trying? ”

“I’ll think about it,” I reply noncommittally.

“Please do,” he says, glancing at the clock. “Ah, well would you look at that, I think our time is up for today.” Michael rises from his seat and leads me to the door of his small office. “Try to work on some of the exercises we discussed, and I will see you the same time next week. Alright?”

“Definitely, see you next time.”

Stepping out into the rain and heading towards the nearest subway station, I glance around the busy streets of New York City.

People are huddled under umbrellas, rushing to get out of the downpour.

I left mine at home, so I’m soaked within minutes.

The rain is cold, but it feels almost refreshing, like it’s washing away the heaviness of the therapy session.

Descending into the subway station, I wait for the train to arrive at the platform.

The sign says it will be here in 3 minutes, but I know better than to trust that.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the tired train pulls up and I grab a seat before it’s taken.

My mind already drifts off, even as I vaguely hear the garbled announcement of the train’s destination over the ancient crackling speakers.

As much as I hate to say it, Michael’s not wrong.

I feel like I’m stuck in a rut, and every time I think about what I did I spiral and get locked up in those emotions.

I haven’t processed it, more just avoided it as much as possible.

Apart from my job, I don’t have a lot of people in my life.

Growing up as a foster kid, bouncing from home to home didn’t do me any favors when it came to having a family to turn to for support.

The only people I really have are my best friend Jayda and her long-term boyfriend Caleb.

Coincidentally, they are also my roommates in our cramped 2-bedroom apartment.

Life isn’t cheap in New York, but we’ve made the best of it and made it affordable by splitting the rent three ways.

They have both been there for me over the years, ever since we met each other at the coffee shop job I had after I aged out of the system.

I’m distracted from my thoughts as I hear the announcement for my stop and quickly get up and move toward the door.

The train stops and a rush of people flood out of it, carrying me along with them.

I weave through the crowd, finding my way out of the station and into the lobby and creaky elevator of my shabby apartment building.

The old brick building is as run down as it can be without being condemned by the city, and it probably has more rats living in it than people on any given day. But, when the only other option is being homeless, it’s still better than that.

Slotting the key into my apartment’s door and opening it, I’m assaulted by the sound of angry punk music blasting from the kitchen.

The kitchen looks like a bomb has gone off, which means that Jayda is baking.

She’s in her usual goth outfit, looking as fierce as ever, while also being covered head to toe in flour. She sees me and smiles.

“Daniel, you’re home!” she cries gleefully. “Come help me make cookies, Caleb refuses to be my assistant.”

“It’s not that I refuse to be your assistant, it’s just that I have more self-preservation skills than you, and don’t want to inhale all the flour into my lungs.

If Daniel is smart, he will do the same,” Caleb pipes up from the nearby couch.

He greets me with a nod, before turning back to the book he has in his hands.

Where Jayda looks like she just came from a punk concert, Caleb is the opposite.

If you were to look up hipster in the dictionary, I’m sure you’d find a picture of him as the definition.

He’s tall and slim, with a small goatee, black plastic-rimmed glasses, and an ever-present beanie on his head.

They make an odd couple, but somehow it just works for them.

“I’d be very careful what you say, or there won’t be any cookies for you,” Jayda says ominously, before turning back to me with bright eyes. “Please Daniel!”

I cave, tossing my wet jacket off to the side and joining her in the kitchen. Jayda is a force of nature, and there really is no opposition to her when she wants something.

She hums to herself happily, measuring the ingredients as I obediently follow her directions and mix them together.

As we bake together, she chats about her day and all the little things in her life that she wants to share.

Contrary to her appearance, Jayda is probably the sweetest and most bubbly person you could ever meet.

She’s also crazy protective of those she loves, which luckily enough includes me.

“So, how did your therapist session go?” she asks, glancing up at me innocently.

“It went like I thought it would; like it always does. He asks me questions; I do my best to avoid answering them.” I say with a sigh, eyes resolutely staring down at the mixing bowl and the whisk in my hand.

“Oh honey, you need to be open to the process. I know after last year, and what Alex did, you don’t want to relive it, but you need to go through it.”

Alex. Just hearing his name makes me feel rage and despair all at the same time. He was supposed to be the one, the guy that was going to be my happily forever after. We built a life together, and then all in one swift moment it all came crashing down like a house of cards.

“I don’t really want to talk about him,” I say, hastily trying to change the subject.

“Well too bad, we’re going to,” she insists. “You need to move on from that asshole; I get he broke your heart, but you can’t let him hold this influence over your life forever Daniel. He’s already hurt you enough.”

In my mind, I know she’s right, but my heart still won’t accept it. How do you get over finding the love of your life in your bed with another man?

“Why don’t you try that website your therapist told you about? Maybe you can find someone who gets what you’ve been through. With Alex and...after that,” she says softly.

“Yeah maybe, I dunno. It just feels weird.”

“Seriously Daniel, you need to try to be happy again. You know we are both here for you, but we want our little ray of sunshine back! You can’t keep living like this.”

“You know what, I think I’m feeling pretty tired from today. I’m going to head to bed early.” I say, hastily tossing the whisk back and stepping away towards my room.

“Daniel, please. We just want to help you be happy again; just let us in.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” I say, rushing behind the bedroom door and closing it firmly then dropping to my bed.

I curl into a ball, holding myself tight. Part of me wants to sob, knowing that they’re right. I’m not happy and I haven’t been in a long time. Another part of me is angry at myself for being weak and showing them that I couldn’t take care of myself.

There is also that quiet voice inside my head telling me that I’m not worth it, and why do I keep trying when it would be so much easier to just give up.

That voice comes and goes, and when I let it control my actions bad things happen.

Last year was horrible, and the voice was fully in charge then.

I sit up, forcing myself to stop dwelling on it and ignore the voice.

I grab my laptop and bring up the website they all want me to sign up for, The homepage has flashy graphics and talks about being there to support one another with mental health, so basically the same corny lines that the therapist throws out each session.

At this point, I already know this site is a waste of time.

I might as well just sign up so I can tell them all I did it and get them off my back.

I make an account with the username mindovermatter and start navigating the site.

There’s a forum where people post their stories, and there’s the typical tragic stories like “help me, I’m so stressed, I have exams, I’m broke, I don’t know what to do”.

None of these people know what it’s actually like to have issues and not know where to turn or what to do.

They don’t know the real feeling of helplessness and impotence when you feel trapped.

I bring up the create a post tool and write up a little about me blurb and my story. I might as well put something on here, otherwise Michael might call my bluff about signing up. Quickly writing it up I hit send, then slap my laptop shut.

I can feel the siren call of my bed and after today I need the sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

New Post by Mindovermatter:

19Sep2024 21:42

Hi,

I don’t even really know what to say here, so I guess I’ll just start by telling you about myself and my story.

I’m an American and live in New York City.

I’m twenty-four years old, a guy, gay, and latino.

I wouldn’t say I’m hot stuff, but I also don’t think I’m bad looking either.

I’m about 5’10”, 160 pounds, and very little to no muscles to show for those 160 pounds.

I also suffer with depression, and because of this my therapist suggested I come here.

I grew up in the foster system, and being a gay kid in the foster system didn’t do me any favors.

Most families didn’t want me, and I was bullied at every school I went to.

I bounced from foster home to foster home until I aged out of the system, and then didn’t have a home.

Luckily, I met some friends who helped me find a place, a minimum wage job, and took care of me.

For the first time in my life, I felt appreciated and worth something.

With their support, I was able to get a better job.

I started taking care of myself, doing the things I liked doing, and eventually I even thought I found love.

I met this guy named Alex, and I thought he was perfect.

He was quiet and calm, yet passionate and ferocious all at the same time.

He had this way of building you up and making you feel like you were the most important thing in his life.

He made me feel like I was special and loved and, at least for a while, I felt like I was worth something and that life was worth living.

That’s when things came crashing down, and I realized that I’d been living a lie.

I came home after a year of us dating to find Alex in my bed with another guy.

Some random he found off Grindr apparently, not that I really wanted to know that.

He broke my heart and then left me. I discovered after the fact that he had been seeing guys behind my back for the entirety of our relationship.

I guess I was his running joke, and he laughed about it with his friends.

At least, that’s what one of his friends drunkenly texted me after he left.

I went from feeling like I was the center of his life and valued, to realizing that I was nothing more than a booty call and a joke. Everything that made me feel valued and like life was worth living was taken away from me, and I spiraled into a deep depression.

Suffice it to say that this didn’t go anywhere good, and I became a little too familiar with a sharp knife. After that I spent 6 weeks being looked after by doctors in white lab coats, before being deemed healthy enough to return to the real world.

And that leads us back to here, with me posting on this site. Now you know my story!