Alexandria Lee - Group Therapy

I've always had a knack for telling who's fucked up in the head. It's kind of like a gift I didn't want. People know that I know that something is wrong so they feel the need to bog me down with their issues with no regard for my feelings. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind helping people. It just gets tiring after a while.
At least I'm not the only fucked up one here.
Everyone here is a mess. Avery, Morgan, Jenna, Sabrina, Katrina, Rose, Billy, Nick, Hannah, and I. Some of us are piss puddles on these stupid plastic chairs and some of us are all over the damn floor. Just a bunch of messes that are slowly being forced to confess our deepest secrets.
It's bullshit.
"So..." Wilber (who the hell names their kid Wilber?) looks around the silent room. "Who would like to go first?"
No one. I think. No one wants to be here and no one wants to go first.
"Um... Morgan?"
She shakes her head and looks at her lap, gently scratching at her wrist. They're both bandaged.
Wilber has read our "official diagnosis" and names out loud at the beginning of this meeting. Apparently I'm depressed. Avery is a sick, nervous wreck. So are Jenna and Hannah. (Nervous wrecks I mean) Sabrina, Rose, and Katrina all constantly fight with food. Nick is just a "minor case" while Billy is all over the place and Morgan apparently one day just suddenly up and slit her wrists for no reason. (According to her parents) She refuses to speak to anyone.
"Callie?" Wilber asks, grey eyes full of hope that I might actually speak.
"Suck it." I tell him rudely. If I have to sit through this pointless thing and deal with stupid people so do you.
He looks around for anyone who's willing to speak and I think I see a few greys slip into his thinning brown hair as he does. Eventually he turns back to me, seeming intent to make a conversation.
"So, Callie, you're depressed. Why?"
I move out of my slouching position and lean forward, glaring at him. "I don't know , Wilber." I say as calmly as I can. "I was hoping maybe you could enlighten me about that."
"Well... Well surely you know at least one reason for-"
"Dude, shut the fuck up." Billy blows up. "She obviously doesn't want to talk about it. Leave her the hell alone." With that he sits back with a huff, muttering "You remind me of my goddamn father."
Mr. In Charge looks put off for a moment before he decides to attempt to engage Billy in conversation instead. "What made you so angry all of a sudden, Bill-"
"You and your goddamn stupidity is what!" He rages. "You can't fix people by forcing them to talk about something they clearly don't want to talk about." Then another angry mumble, "Goddamn prick." And that's all he has to say for the rest of the meeting.
Wilber FancyDegreeGuy looks both offended and very much out of patience. I hear snickering and look over to see Sabrina covering her mouth. I'm not sure what she's laughing at and I don't think I should care.
"And what , Miss Sabrina, might you be giggling at?" Wilber asks in a surprisingly calm tone.
"Nothing much." She flashes him a smile. "Carry on."
I think Sabrina could be really pretty and attractive if she wasn't all skin and bones. Billy too. Sabrina has strawberry blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, and I think her skin wasn't grossly (like deathly gross) pale before she stopped eating. And Billy has dark hair and grass green eyes. I think he has a nice smile. I wouldn't know though because I haven't seen him smile.
"Does anybody have anything serious to say?"
No. I sigh quietly.
Am I suppose to say that I'm depressed because my parents yell at me? Or because school is stressful? Or maybe because I'm not good at making friends. Or good at anything.
I honestly don't think that I'm actually depressed. I know that I'm not happy. But I'm not depressed either.
"Person, sir?"
"Yes, Hannah?" He asks cautiously.
"What are, um, some coping methods for anxiety attacks?" She questions.
Fancy Pants looks relieved to finally get a serious sentence out of somebody. Hannah seems genuine too. But I can tell that, like every teenager in this room, she doesn't really want to be here either.
The topic isn't anything I'm interested in so I blow a few stray hairs out of eyes and put my head in my hands, bored out of my mind.
Why am I depressed?