Heart-strings

It was hard to be afraid and behave normally all at once, but putting on a show was his only option, so he'll fight through the thoughts to keep that smile on his face.

First person point of view
Coffee was like therapy, helpful, but short-lived. You'd rant about your problems, sputtering out issues in a cozy chair, feel better about yourself and move on. But, by this time tomorrow, you'll have scheduled another appointment, and pay a therapist to watch your mental breakdown for forty-five minutes. Despite that logic, you don't stop going. That's because it's addicting, like caffeine. For an hour or so, (give or take), you'll be energetic, awake, and thriving in your home. The day drags by, your becoming tired. It's only natural to make another mug. Human beings crave to be living at their best, whilst neglecting the cost. I'm in serious debt because I couldn't stop going back in Erica's office, sobbing over throw-pillows, receiving some advice, rinsing and repeating. I don't sleep at night, because by the time my heads hit the pillow, I'm beyond wired from downing gallons of Frappuccino throughout the day. Is that going to change? No. This is just my life, now. I put myself in this place, because I indulged in phases. Going and seeing a physiatrist once a month was a phase, buying a mocha from time to time was a phase, but phases become habits, and habits become problems. I wish I could change that, but I have enough to deal with as is. Plus, a little bit of constant in my life is healthy... reassuring. Safe.
"... Comfortable. Y'know? It's not like I'm too lazy to fix this, this shit, but I... I just don't know if I could bring myself to keep all these feelings inside anymore."

Hope you enjoyed the prologue! ~Author-Chan