Is it time for me to sleep?
Nov 5, 2013 16:50:50 GMT -5
Post by Michael Jones on Nov 5, 2013 16:50:50 GMT -5
Yes, he had certainly gotten better since he’d come to the school. There were issues he was dealing with, now more than before. His parents, for one, did not have a lifestyle that he approved of anymore. It was getting less and less about them being parents and more and more about them being able to do what they wished now that he was away at boarding school. Perhaps in the year since he had gotten to this school he had gotten more social than he ever was before, but all of that needed to change. It needed to because this place was trapping him. He would go back home, and he already knew that he needed to go back to the school. Such a heavy reliance was proving already to be a bad thing. Look what he had done, attempting to rely on his parents, he’d trusted that they might come visit him or even send him a message. It had been three months, and there was no sign that they were going to come or even give him any attention as their only child. So long as this school was fixing him, they didn’t need to get involved, right?
Well that was not something he wanted a part of. The school was making him work hard, and he was nearly to the point where he could control himself should an outburst arise, but he was getting told over and over again that he needed the focus of this, the discipline of that, and he needed to do this to keep himself calm! He was happy for a brief period, when it was working, but he slowly realized how much he had to rely on someone else to keep himself from hurting them. Things became more complicated. What if they were only trying to fix him to selfishly protect himself? He wasn’t actually learning to stop his power yet, either. He just was being given tips to making himself calm when he wasn’t training, which was a long amount of time. Then, he’d go to the grounds and once again he’d blow up half the field he was working in. It felt like a vicious cycle, and any amount of progress he made could never be done again without help. He had to be extremely reliant that someone else would be there to stop him if he got too involved.
It was getting him angrier and angrier. It had been a full week since he’d gone to any training classes at all. It had also been quite a while since he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. He shouldn’t be one to get homesick, as his parents were hardly home when he was there, but he missed that they might at least try to show some affection when they were at a party. Now that he was gone, no letters or anything actually had to be sent, just so long as they could say that they had contact, it was enough for the partygoers and the cocktail guests. It sickened his stomach. Michael looked around the room, and then managed to grab his hairbrush. He’d not slept for a while, but he’d been trying to, and his overgrown hair was no sticking up in all directions, which was something he definitely needed to fix. He could at least look a little well rested when he showed up to the man’s office.
It’d be seen through though. He had no doubt in his mind that he would not be able to hide the fact of his sleep patterns. He let out a small sigh, then took a few smaller breaths. He was fine…there was no reason to get all upset over just going down to see Dr. Neville. He’d gotten over that fear…and now it was a matter of hiding just a bit of information that was all. He only needed to say that he didn’t like training because of his power, and that was the whole situation. The boy picked at the bristles of his brush, frowning. A glance up into the mirror showed that his face was a bit paler than it should be, and his eyes a bit more sunken in, but Michael didn’t necessarily see this. He had seen his face look like this before, and it wasn’t generally a cause for concern. Shouldering his bag, he walked out of his room, walking the familiar path to the doctor’s office.
When he got there, he sat, nervously straightening his hair. He was outside of the office just for that moment at least, and he looked at the clock. He had a bit of time. He leaned back with a small sigh. His body was exhausted…he could feel it too. Luckily, with the absence of the training he had to do, he was feeling a lot better, since he’d been training on little sleep before as well, which caused massive headaches. Today…well. It was a better day than it had been. Part of him, a very small part, was relieved to go see the doctor. Maybe it’d help him get some sleep.
Well that was not something he wanted a part of. The school was making him work hard, and he was nearly to the point where he could control himself should an outburst arise, but he was getting told over and over again that he needed the focus of this, the discipline of that, and he needed to do this to keep himself calm! He was happy for a brief period, when it was working, but he slowly realized how much he had to rely on someone else to keep himself from hurting them. Things became more complicated. What if they were only trying to fix him to selfishly protect himself? He wasn’t actually learning to stop his power yet, either. He just was being given tips to making himself calm when he wasn’t training, which was a long amount of time. Then, he’d go to the grounds and once again he’d blow up half the field he was working in. It felt like a vicious cycle, and any amount of progress he made could never be done again without help. He had to be extremely reliant that someone else would be there to stop him if he got too involved.
It was getting him angrier and angrier. It had been a full week since he’d gone to any training classes at all. It had also been quite a while since he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. He shouldn’t be one to get homesick, as his parents were hardly home when he was there, but he missed that they might at least try to show some affection when they were at a party. Now that he was gone, no letters or anything actually had to be sent, just so long as they could say that they had contact, it was enough for the partygoers and the cocktail guests. It sickened his stomach. Michael looked around the room, and then managed to grab his hairbrush. He’d not slept for a while, but he’d been trying to, and his overgrown hair was no sticking up in all directions, which was something he definitely needed to fix. He could at least look a little well rested when he showed up to the man’s office.
It’d be seen through though. He had no doubt in his mind that he would not be able to hide the fact of his sleep patterns. He let out a small sigh, then took a few smaller breaths. He was fine…there was no reason to get all upset over just going down to see Dr. Neville. He’d gotten over that fear…and now it was a matter of hiding just a bit of information that was all. He only needed to say that he didn’t like training because of his power, and that was the whole situation. The boy picked at the bristles of his brush, frowning. A glance up into the mirror showed that his face was a bit paler than it should be, and his eyes a bit more sunken in, but Michael didn’t necessarily see this. He had seen his face look like this before, and it wasn’t generally a cause for concern. Shouldering his bag, he walked out of his room, walking the familiar path to the doctor’s office.
When he got there, he sat, nervously straightening his hair. He was outside of the office just for that moment at least, and he looked at the clock. He had a bit of time. He leaned back with a small sigh. His body was exhausted…he could feel it too. Luckily, with the absence of the training he had to do, he was feeling a lot better, since he’d been training on little sleep before as well, which caused massive headaches. Today…well. It was a better day than it had been. Part of him, a very small part, was relieved to go see the doctor. Maybe it’d help him get some sleep.
