or Patrick or Bob or anyone to get in trouble. But most of all, I didn't want to see my mother's face and especially my father's if they heard me say the truth.
So, I didn't say anything.
I just kept quiet and looked around. And I noticed things. The dots on the ceiling. Or how the blanket they gave me was rough. Or how the doctor's face looked rubbery. Or how everything was a deafening whisper, when he said that maybe I should start seeing a psychiatrist again. It was the first time a doctor ever told that to my parents with me in the room. And his coat was so white. And I was so tired.
All I could think through the whole day was that we missed my brother's football game because of me, and I really hoped my sister thought to tape it.
Luckily, she did.
We got home, and my mom made me some tea, and my dad asked me if I wanted to sit and watch the game, and I said yes. We watched my brother make a great play, but this time, nobody really cheered. All corners of all eyes were on me. And my mom said a lot of encouraging things about how I was doing so well this school year and maybe the doctor would help me sort things out. My mom can be quiet and talk at the same time when she's being positive. My dad kept giving me 'love pats.' Love pats are soft punches of encouragement that are administered on the knee, shoulder, and arm. My sister said that she could help me fix up my hair. It was weird to have them pay so much attention to me.
'What do you mean? What's wrong with my hair?'
My sister just kind of looked around, uncomfortable. I reached my hands up to my hair and realized that a lot of it was gone. I honestly don't remember when I did it, but from the look of my hair, I must have grabbed a pair of scissors and just started cutting without strategy. Big chunks of it were missing all over the place. It was like a butcher's cut. I hadn't looked at myself in the mirror at the party for a long time because my face was different and frightened me. Or else I would have noticed.
My sister did help me trim it up a bit, and I was lucky because everyone in school including Sam and Patrick thought it looked cool.
'Chic' was Patrick's word.
Regardless, I decided to never take LSD again.
I feel like a big faker because I've been putting my life back together, and nobody knows. It's hard to sit in my bedroom and read like I always did. It's even hard to talk to my brother on the phone. His team finished third in the nation. Nobody told him we missed the game live because of me.
I went to the library and checked out a book because I was getting scared. Every now and then things would start moving again, and sounds were bass heavy and hollow. And I couldn't put a thought together. The book said that sometimes people take LSD, and they don't really get out of it. They said that it increases this one type of brain transmitter. They said that essentially the drug is twelve hours of schizophrenia, and if you already have a lot of this brain transmitter, you don't get out of it.
I started breathing fast in the library. It was really bad because I remembered some of the schizophrenic kids in the hospital when I was little. And it didn't help that this was the day after I noticed that all the kids were wearing their new Christmas clothes, so I decided to wear my new suit from Patrick to school, and was teased mercilessly for nine straight hours. It was such a bad day. I skipped my first class ever and went to see Sam and Patrick outside.
'Looking sharp, Charlie,' Patrick said grinning.
'Can I have a cigarette?' I said. I couldn't bring myself to say 'bum a smoke.' Not for my first one. I just couldn't.
'Sure,' said Patrick.
Sam stopped him.
'What's wrong, Charlie?'
I told them what was wrong, which prompted Patrick to keep asking me if I had a 'bad trip.'
'No. No. It's not that.' I was really getting upset.
Sam put her arm around my shoulder, and she said she knew what I was going through. She told me I shouldn't worry about it. Once you do it, you remember how things looked on it. That's all. Like how the road turned into waves. And how your face was plastic and your eyes were two different sizes. It's all in your mind.
That's when she gave me the cigarette.
When I lit it, I didn't cough. It actually felt soothing. I know that's bad in a health class way, but it was true.
'Now, focus on the smoke,' Sam said.
And I focused on the smoke.
'Now, that looks normal doesn't it?'
'Uh-huh,' I think I said.
'Now, look at the cement on the playground. Is it moving?'
'Uh-huh.'
'Okay… now focus on the piece of paper that's just sitting there on the ground.'
And I focused on the piece of paper that was sitting on the ground.
'Is the cement moving now?'
'No. It's not.'
From there you go, to you're going to be okay, to you probably should never do acid again, Sam went on to explain what she called 'the trance.' The trance happens when you don't focus on anything, and the whole big picture swallows and moves around you. She said it was usually metaphoric, but for people who should never do acid again, it was literal.
That's when I started laughing. I was so relieved. And Sam and Patrick smiled. I was glad they started smiling, too, because I couldn't stand their looking so worried.
Things have stopped moving for the most part ever since. I haven't skipped another class. And I guess now I don't feel like a big faker for trying to put my life back together. Bill thought my paper on
I'm now up to about ten cigarettes a day.
I feel great! I really mean it. I have to remember this for the next time I'm having a terrible week. Have you ever done that? You feel really bad, and then it goes away, and you don't know why. I try to remind myself when I feel great like this that there will be another terrible week coming someday, so I should store up as many great details as I can, so during the next terrible week, I can remember those details and believe that I'll feel great again. It doesn't work a lot, but I think it's very important to try.
My psychiatrist is a very nice man. He's much better than my last psychiatrist. We talk about things that I feel and think and remember. Like when I was little, and there was this one time that I walked down the street in my neighborhood. I was completely naked, holding a bright blue umbrella, even though it wasn't raining. And I was so happy because it made my mom smile. And she rarely smiled. So, she took a picture. And the neighbors complained.
This other time, I saw a commercial for this movie about a man who was accused of murder, but he didn't commit the murder. A guy from
