Chapter 16: Mindfulness Meltdown I woke up the next morning feeling…different. Not exactly *good*, but different. Like I’d shed a layer of skin I didn’t even know I had. Raw, maybe. Exposed. Vulnerable as hell. Dr. Klein had suggested mindfulness exercises. Something about connecting with my inner self, finding a center amidst the chaos. Sounded like hippie bullshit, but I’d promised to try. So, there I was, Jim Feder, future Duke Blue Devil, about to get all zen. I threw on some sweats, laced up my Jordans, and headed out. The city was already buzzing, the early morning grind in full swing. I decided on Central Park. Figured nature was the most mindful place I could find in this concrete jungle. My plan was simple: find a quiet spot, close my eyes, and breathe. Focus on the present moment. No Valeria, no Duke, no pressure. Just me and… whatever the hell was supposed to happen. Finding a quiet spot in Central Park was like finding a sober guy at a frat party – damn near impossible. Tourists snapping photos, joggers pounding the pavement, nannies wrangling screaming kids… It was a goddamn circus. I eventually stumbled upon a secluded bench near the pond, tucked away behind a cluster of trees. Close enough. I sat down, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. …and immediately got hit with the stench of hot dog water. *Seriously?* I tried again, focusing on the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves. Almost got there when a gaggle of middle-aged women started cackling nearby, comparing notes on their latest Botox treatments. *Goddamn it.* Third time’s the charm, right? I blocked out the noise, the smell, the everything, and tried to tune into…myself. That's when I heard it. “Yo, Jim! Jim Feder!” My eyes snapped open. Standing before me was a dude in a Yankees jersey, holding a basketball. Behind him, another dude with a camera phone. “Can I get a pic, man? You’re my hero!” I sighed. This was exactly what I was trying to avoid. “Look, man, I’m kind of busy right now,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “Maybe later?” “Aw, come on, it’ll just take a second!” He stepped closer, shoving the basketball towards me. “Sign my ball?” Before I could answer, another voice piped up. “Jim! Over here! Big fan!” I turned to see a group of teenagers waving and yelling my name. More people started to notice, phones coming out, voices getting louder. This was turning into a goddamn mob scene. “Alright, alright, everyone chill!” I said, standing up. “I appreciate the love, but I’m trying to have a little peace and quiet here.” Of course, nobody listened. They just kept coming, a tidal wave of iPhones and autograph requests. “Jim, what’s it like playing for Coach Harper?” “Jim, you gonna win a championship at Duke?” “Jim, can I get a selfie?” I felt my blood start to boil. All that mindfulness bullshit Dr. Klein talked about? Gone. Just like that. “Alright, that’s it!” I snapped, my voice rising. “Everyone back the fuck up! I said, BACK UP!” That got their attention. The crowd quieted down, their faces a mix of surprise and confusion. “What, you think I’m some kind of goddamn circus act?” I continued, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think I enjoy being swarmed by a bunch of brain-dead lemmings every time I step outside? Get a fucking life!” I didn’t stop there. I let loose, a torrent of sarcastic insults and cutting remarks, aimed at everyone and no one in particular. I called them tourists, groupies, fame-hungry losers, all the while thinking about Valeria and Miguel making out. The crowd recoiled, their faces turning from admiration to anger. Good. Let them feel something. “And for all you aspiring paparazzi assholes,” I said, pointing at the dude with the camera phone, “go find someone else to stalk. I’m not your fucking meal ticket. Get a real job!” I turned and stormed off, leaving the stunned crowd in my wake. My heart was pounding, my hands were shaking, and my face was flushed with anger. Mindfulness my ass. I didn’t stop running until I was halfway across the park, my lungs burning, my head spinning. I collapsed onto another bench, far away from the chaos, and tried to catch my breath. What the hell had just happened? I was supposed to be finding inner peace, connecting with my higher self, all that bullshit. Instead, I’d turned into a goddamn raving lunatic. Dr. Klein was wrong. Therapy wasn’t working. Mindfulness wasn’t working. Nothing was working. I was still angry, still hurting, still lost. And now, I was probably going to be all over TMZ. I pulled out my phone and saw a bunch of missed calls and texts. Mostly from Rich, no doubt wanting to know what the hell had just happened. I ignored them all. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to disappear. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to deal with this. I had to find a way to control my anger, to stop myself from lashing out at everyone around me. But how? I scrolled through my contacts, searching for…something. Someone. My thumb hovered over Demitra’s name. She had a calming presence. She’d offered a safe space the other night, a non-judgmental ear. And she hadn’t tried to fix me, just listened. Maybe… maybe she could help. But this wasn’t about lust or distraction. This was about something different. Something… deeper. I took a deep breath and typed a message: *Hey Demitra,* *You busy?* The reply came almost instantly. *Never for you, Jimmy. What’s up?* I hesitated, unsure how to explain everything that had just happened. *Had a bit of a meltdown in Central Park,* I typed. *Think I need some serious zen.* *Sounds rough,* she replied. *Want to talk about it?* *Maybe later,* I typed. *Right now, I just need to…chill.* *I get it,* she said. *So, what kind of zen are we talking about? Meditation? Yoga? Sensory deprivation chamber?* I smirked. Even in the midst of my chaos, she could still make me laugh. *How about meditation?* I typed. *But not alone. Misery loves company, right?* There was a pause. A longer pause than usual. *Meditation?* she finally replied. *You, Jim Feder, the king of sarcasm and trash talk, wants to meditate?* *Hey, a guy can change, right?* I typed back. *Besides, I’m desperate. Think you can handle it?* *I think I can handle anything you throw at me, Jimmy,* she replied. *When and where?* *How about your place?* I typed. *I need a sanctuary from this crazy city.* *My place it is,* she said. *Come whenever you want. I’ll be waiting.* I stared at the message, a mix of apprehension and hope swirling inside me. This was it. No more running, no more hiding. Time to face my demons, with a little help from an unexpected source. I typed one last message: *See you soon, Demitra.* I stood up, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. I wasn’t sure if meditation was the answer, but I was willing to try anything. Especially if it meant spending time with Demitra, a girl who seemed to see something in me that I didn’t even see myself. As I started walking towards the subway, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I was getting myself into. Meditating with Demitra? That was definitely uncharted territory. But maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what I needed. A connection that wasn’t based on anger or lust. A moment of peace in the middle of the storm. I just hoped I wouldn’t screw it up. I boarded the train, headphones on, trying to block out the noise and the memories of my Central Park meltdown. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to recapture that elusive sense of calm. It wasn’t easy, but I kept trying. Because I knew that if I wanted to get better, I had to fight for it. I had to fight for myself. And maybe, just maybe, Demitra could help me win that fight. The train screeched to a halt, jolting me back to reality. Time to get off and face the unknown. I stepped out onto the platform and headed towards Demitra’s apartment, ready to try something new, something different. Ready to...