Figgy O'Connell

Here’s what happens when a guy blows up during your group therapy session that’s supposed to make you feel better about people blowing up. The group therapy session is officially cancelled. You do not feel better.

Okay, right off the bat, before we get into all the awesome things about this story, let me make one thing perfectly clear.

Some people are bound to not like this main character. 

She’s opinionated, and lazy, and morbid. She does drugs, falls in love too quickly, makes snap-judgements, and making jokes is her biggest coping mechanism.

She’s the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral* if you will.

But, you know what? I went through a lot of these same feelings when I was a teenager… minus the spontaneous combustion element, of course. So, while some people might point out things Mara does that don’t seem realistic… well, I would like to tell these people that she might very well be my teenage spirit animal. Only, well, way more confident in herself than I ever was. But that’s on me.

And sometimes, when people around you start blowing up without warning, what you really need is a little humour to help save you from those deep, wallowing pits of despair.

“I like Mara’s jokes,” Brian Chen responded. “They help me remember it’s okay to smile. I don’t know if I’d still be coming to these things if it wasn’t for Mara.”
“Thank you, Bri,” I said, and at that point I began to realize that we were a bit of a cliché. Stories about troubled teenagers often feature support groups where smart-ass comments fly and feelings get hurt, where friends and enemies are forged over one-liners and tears. But here’s the thing. Even if we were a bit of a cliché, we were only a cliché for a bit. Because almost immediately after announcing his dedication to my humor, Brian Chen blew up.

Enter Mara, the only person who could tell this story without it getting too depressing, while still putting into words so very well how the grief and shock of this sort of situation affects the “survivors”.

You can’t feel much of anything in a moment like that. You certainly can’t analyze the situation. At least not while it’s happening. Later, the image will play over and over in your head, like some demon GIF, like some creeper who slips into your bed every single night, taps you on the shoulder, and says, “Remember me, the worst fucking moment of your life up to this point?” Later, you’ll feel and do a lot of things, but when it’s actually happening, all you can feel is confusion and all you do is react.

 

I sat there drinking and feeling sorry for myself. Then I sat there drinking and feeling angry at myself. Then I sat there drinking and feeling nothing, watching the rain like every pitiful person who ever thought that rain can stand in for emotions when, really, it’s only weather. Stupid fucking weather.

(Oh, yes, and she swears. A lot.)

(*No, she doesn’t actually laugh at a funeral, but she definitely laughs at some funeral-adjacent events, and she makes jokes of the “too soon” variety in her people-who-were-in-the-same-room-as-the-girl-who-spontaneously-combusted support group.)

The rest of this review can be found HERE!