Mental Health Initiative #1 // [Warren/Charlie + Carnival]

Charlie’s trying to make me less depressed.

Bless her for it, but on the morning of the carnival all I want to do is lay on the couch and eat chicken nuggets in my pajamas, which isn’t necessarily healthy, yeah, yeah, I know. Then again, neither is the amount we drink – an unfortunate habit I’ve picked up from Charlie, though an enjoyable one. Nobody should lecture us about health, be it mental or otherwise; we’re both of us a mess, which is why living together was deemed a good idea.

(Well, perhaps I’m more of a mess and Charlie just wants to keep an eye on me. Still – it works.)

So instead of doing what my heart wants – couch, chicken nuggets, etc. – we depart for the carnival. I’m going for ultimate comfort; I begrudgingly dress in a shirt and pants that look fairly normal.

Secret: they’re actually fancy pajamas.

I decide that nobody will notice or care, so on we go.

The carnival is awash with life and vitality, and I feel a bit out of place in its vibrancy. I’m suddenly aware that people will recognize me, bother me, pester me… but somehow, they don’t. Perhaps everyone’s too caught up in their carnival fun. Or perhaps I’m a washed up loser.

I don’t dwell on the thought. I want to have fun, for Charlie’s sake, and not be a depressed lump.

“Food!” I say, predictably, pointing Charlie toward the array of options. ”God, I hope they have chicken nuggets.”