Keep An Open Mind {Lynn Gunn}

4) It's My Head Not My Heart That's Strayed

Psychologists are strange. You get to talk with a stranger about the most remote and personal stuff about your life, things that you may have tried to dig underground for years. They don't even really care about you, they don't ask because they care, they do it cause it's their job. They get paid. And the thing that upsets me the most is that even though they don't show it, in their mind there's this constant thought that their patients have something wrong, obviously. Like everyone else.

My parents dropped me off right in front of the studio, so I walked in to be greeted by my personal psychologist.

"Oh, Lyndsey, great to see you. How's life?" he asked, with a genuine small smile.

I didn't dislike Dr. Hoppus that much. Unlike my previous psychologists, he at least looked like he did care about me and he would try to make me feel at ease in the studio.

I shrugged in response to his question and he nodded, looking a bit disappointed.

He then told me to sit on the couch and make myself at home, so I did as I was told.

"So, Lynn. Did anything new happen?" he asked.

"Kind of. I had a new dream." I replied and he turned all his attention on me, setting his chin on his fist and motioning me to continue with his other hand.

"Well there was this lake where I was diving in and... there was no edge, no limit, no ground. And I breathed underwater without the need of holding my breath or anything. It was real."

"It seemed real." He corrected and I sighed silently.

"Whatever." I muttered under my breath.

"What else happened in the dream?"

"Not much. I keep seeing this rabbit that motions me to follow him, but I never do it..." I explained and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"And why don't you do it?" he questioned.

"I... I don't know... There's always something that holds me back, like a magnetic barrier or so." I replied, as he scribbled something on his notepad.

"Is there anything else?" he asked and I shook my head.

We continued our session peacefully, nothing new from the other times. Same questions, same answers. Same 'tricks' to understand how my minds and nerves worked, same results.

At one point, he stood up and took a few pieces of paper from his black desk. Then he sat down again, in the chair in front of me.

"Lynn, tell me, what do you see here?" he asked, showing me a drawing. Well, it was more of an inkblot than a real drawing, but still.

"It's a rabbit." I responded. Next picture.

"And here?"

"A door." I replied. He looked at the image for one speed second and went to the next picture, looking at me with questioning eyes.

"That's a padlock." I replied. Next one.

"A pill." Ha, I know these ones too well.

It was the last picture, so he set them down beside him and analyzed his notepad.

"So, a rabbit, a door, a padlock and a pill?" he asked and I nodded.

"Last time I showed you ink drawings you replied with the same things, even though the images were different." He stated. I was in loss of words, I didn't recall what I said the last time in that moment, I just replied sincerely.

"These pictures are seen in different ways, depends on who looks at them. They reflect our soul, sometimes. Our feelings or thoughts. Or at least, they're somehow related to them." He explained and I shrugged again.

"Let's focus now, okay? From what I see here, you feel locked up. Don't you? The pill is the medication you take, the rabbit is the one that wants you to follow him. The door... what's the door for?" I shrugged once again.

I'm aware that I've never been a patient that collaborated enough to get through this, but when you're forced into a therapy you already know won't change facts, you tend to push people off without wanting.

It took a few seconds for me to realize.

I felt locked up, yes. Because they won't let me go where I want to go, they don't believe me, my brain is a bird trapped into their cage, that's the truth. They're trying to mess with it but I know what I know.

The rabbit was the same of my dreams, yes. He wanted me to follow him but an invisible chain always found its way to stop me, it was reality. Better yet, what THEY called 'reality'. Their lie's and their words were the chains.

The pill wasn't just a treatment, it messes with my mind, it exploded in my head. They were trying to change my brain, weren't they? As if it was going to work. You can't make an artificial mind by pills, you can't destroy someone's ideas and thoughts with something you call 'medicine'.

How funny, medics prescribe you medication that has tons of side effects and in the end, that one damn medication gives you more problems than you already have, forcing you to buy more 'medicines'. Whatever pill that is supposed to help through mental illness is a deceiving shit. It may allay the disturb, but at the same time it destroys your inside. They don't want you to be your real, apparently 'damaged' self, they want your artificial self. They're the ones who damage you.

However, the door... I knew what that door was. It was something I was afraid to never find. It was the highway to my personal Wonderland, it was the hole I may hopefully escape in. After all I knew that even though it looked like a Wonderland, it wasn't all fake.

This is not just all in your head.

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A/N: I'm really enjoying writing this story. I was thinking of inserting Alexa San Roman at some point... tell me what you think! x