The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome

*Andy's POV*

It made me really uncomfortable to see Gwyn smoking. She had said she was a former smoker last night. That meant I had stressed her out so badly, she had relapsed. But I knew better than to say anything. I was hardly in a position to point fingers. So I just lit a cigarette of my own and looked at the person across from me. Her brows were furrowed, probably thinking about how to get started on whatever she wanted to tell me. I gave her my best impish grin. "So, shoot. I'm listening, do your worst."

She laughed nervously, then frowned. "Yeah, I don't even know, really, like, what the fuck to say. So I guess I will start with this: everyone I have ever been with has left me because they find me incredibly, unbearably negative. With, like, arguably one small half-exception. But, seriously, no one can tolerate being around me on a deeper level for long periods of time. And I am certain, that, with time, you will find that to be the case too. And I am not looking forward to that." Her frown intensified. "No one has felt that it was worth it to stick around. I don't understand why, as I don't think my world view is that fucked up." She smiled. "I think think I'm right all the time."

I laughed. "Gwyn, seriously, you think I'm not going to be able to tolerate your presence because you're a pessimist?" What on earth had happened in her previous relationships to fuck her up so much? I mean, seriously, to try and warn off someone?

She rolled her eyes. "It's not that simple, Andy. I'm an uber-pessimist. I hate most of humanity, I prefer animals to most people. Anyways, that's kind of connected to the next sort of thing..." She hesitated a little, and then got out her iphone. Uh, ok? She messed with it a little. "Ok, here." She handed it to me. It had her name, birthdate, and a list of medical conditions. There were a ton of them! I knew what a few of them were, like being near-sighted, sleep-apnea, major depression, and she had told me about chronic motor tics. But what the fuck were dysthymia, idiopathic hypersomnia, subluxating patellas, gastric reflux disease, or any of the others?

"Gwyn, are you fucking dying?!?" I couldn't believe it! I was falling for this girl! I knew she was like 10 years older than me, sure, but that's not old enough to have her be fucking dying! What the fuck!?! "Are these treatable?" She hadn't looked sick! I was starting to panic...

She looked surprised, then was clearly trying not to laugh. "No, no, Andy, no, I'm not dying. It's ok." She got up from her lawn chair and hugged me, and I squeezed her tightly, kissing her hard. Fuck, I had been scared for a second there. "You dork, you're so sweet. I don't have any terminal disease, eh, per se."

I released her from my deathgrip hug and looked at her, concerned. "Are you ok?"

"Well, no, and that's the problem. Here, give me the phone for a sec?" I passed it back to her. "Ok, so, you know what bipolar disorder is, more or less?" I nodded. "Well, just like how bipolar has two modes, the up and the down, dysthymia is kind of like a permanent, low-key, monopolar depression. Unlike major depressive episodes, it doesn't tend to go away, it's generally life-long. Um... The wikipedia article on it is pretty good." She looked nervous.

"Ok, hold on, I'll read it." I couldn't help but notice that her eyes seemed to light up when I said that. Sweet, score one for Andy! Reading about dysthymia, it sounded like a total shit festival way to go through life. I cleared my throat, not sure how to pose some questions I had delicately...

"Umm... how are you doing? I mean, so you also get the double depression?" Ok, I could have asked that a lot smoother. Fucking dammit!

"I have a psychiatrist, I have been on medication since I was, I dunno, 15 or 16. I have been having a hard time because I've been lonely, most of my friends live in California. I can't live in California because I have a ferret and I like to practice with exotics." She has a ferret! Yes!

"You have a ferret?!? Can I meet it?" I jumped up and put my cigarette out, all mental health issues temporarily forgotten.

Notes

QOTD: ever flown an airplane?

nah dawg