• I sit and look at him. The only man I've ever looked up to. The only man whose been there through it all. He doesn't realize what goes on in the mind of his youngest daughter. Often, he doesn't care enough to ask. I still love him unconditionally, though his mind is often focused on other things.

    He notices my gaze, and with a quick switch of posture, he knows I was staring. Hoping he would realize there was something irking at me. Hoping he would see the anguish in the pale green eyes he passed down to me.

    He turns back to his program, oblivious to the inner workings of a young mind begging for his attention. I clear my throat, the words getting stuck on my tongue and barely falling out.

    "I need help again, Dad. I need to go back."

    A long, lulled silence lurks overhead. I can feel his response on the horizon. My heart races and my mind grows numb. I brace myself for it.

    "You're fine. You don't need anything. You said yourself you were doing better than ever."

    I can't respond. My throat has fallen closed completely. Breathing is a struggle. I have no way to explain myself. My eyes well up and I stand and head for my sanctuary.

    Deep down, I know he just wants his daughter to be normal. I know he wants me to lead a healthy, strong life.

    But the pills aren't working. I'm losing my mind. His denial will be the end of me.