Depression is defined as “feelings of severe despondency and dejection.” My mom, on the other hand, tells me that because I feel like my time would be spent better laying in bed, listening to music and watching YouTube, than going out to parties like a “regular kid”, I am depressed. But the truth is that I’m not depressed - or well, I am , but that’s beside the point. I’m not depressed because of what she thinks; I’m just a seventeen year old kid with an amputated leg and a weird interest in The VlogBrothers. But because she decided that I was spending too much time alone, she took me to see the therapist the hospital recommended, who agreed that I needed to “get out more” and to “stop closing my door on my parents, both figuratively and literally.” My mom decided that this meant it was time for her to act and reach out to a friend who had a kid I used to hang out with, and that scheduling a play date for two seventeen year olds was a good idea.
The play date was to be at Isaac’s house, Isaac being the kid I had last seen when we were both seven. He invited me up to his room, awkwardness radiating off of both of us, and told me I could sit on his bed if I wanted. He told me about multiple different things, such as how, when he told his surgeon that he’d rather be deaf than blind, and that his surgeon told him that it doesn’t work like that, and how his mom made him go to a weekly support group for cancer patients, and how he was bringing his friend, and how I should go too, if I wanted. I told him that I would think about it, and how my mom decided that I was depressed because I watched too much YouTube, and how there was a distinct difference between Pepsi and Coke and that difference was the same difference between cat shit and dog shit (because they both tasted bad to me), and how I would definitely go with him to his support group thing.
After a couple of hours of talking, laughing, and playing video games, Isaac’s mom walked into the room, telling me my mom was here. I thanked her, standing up and looking a Isaac awkwardly. He reached his arms out and hugged me, making me laugh. I let go of him after a while, smiling and telling him I would text him. Leaving his room, and then his house, I found myself running into a semi-attractive boy approaching the door. Smiling slightly, I walked past him and straight into my mom’s 2008 Honda Civic, narrowly avoiding conversation. I buckled up in the passenger seat, turning to my mom with a small smile.
“Was I right?” she asked, making me roll my eyes.
“Shut up,” I told her with a laugh, and she began to laugh with me. “I’m gonna go to this support group thing with Isaac and his friend, just so you know. It’s a cancer thing, and before you say anything, no, you can’t come. I’m taking your advice and living my life.”
“I’m proud of you. How about we go home and play something on the xbox?”
“Sure, why not? But only if you make me some pizza rolls. I’m starving.”