Chapter Colin Adams
COLIN ADAMS
No, I wouldn’t fire Isabelle for being honest with her words. I just wished she didn’t see so much of me in what she said.
No one’s to blame for my shitty days, and taking it out on people never does me any good.
I’ve never told anyone this, but I once saw a therapist—three months, to be exact. I thought it would help, and for a while, it did.
But after that false sense of relief, everything started to fall apart again. The more time passed, the less I could accept losing my daughter, and that’s when I stopped going to therapy.
I made a choice back then… though I could’ve been in a much better place by now.
My problem is rebellion. Yeah, I sound like a teenage troublemaker, always doing the opposite of what I’m told. I followed my therapist’s advice—just the wrong way around.
When he told me to go out, I shut myself in. When he said to have fun, I locked myself in my room. When he encouraged me to meet new people, I drowned in memories of the past.
You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. You end up wasting your time—and theirs. That’s how I felt back then, and honestly, it’s how I still feel about a lot of things now.
People think I’m complicated, that I go out of my way to push everyone away. But I know most of them understand that pain hits everyone differently, and that’s what sets our struggles apart.
What I still don’t know is how I’m supposed to become a better man—for my family and for the people around me. Right now, that feels impossible.