Chapter 17

On the school event calendar hung up on nearly every wall in the building of the school, the date "April 29th" stood out in red, bold print. The first day of state testing. All day Wednesday, and all day today, we have been constantly reminded by each and every teacher to get enough sleep, eat a healthy breakfast, and pay attention. I wasn't really sure how much sleep we were supposed to get. Eight hours? Enough to stay awake? Twelve, fourteen hours? I only get around five hours of sleep a night these days. Lora made sure I ate breakfast every day, and there's no hiding anything from her. Which is why I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was when she sat me down after school today and suggested I go to therapy.But, therapy is for broken people. I'm not broken. I like to think of myself as those bowls that get pieced back together with gold. Kintsugi. Sebastian is my gold, and now that I have him, he's there to pick up the pieces. Being reliant is shitty, and I don't want him to be responsible for every time I fuck up, but he's always there. Or, even if he isn't, the thought of him is."Lucian, you need therapy. You need a professional," Lora explains. She tries reasoning with me, but I'm dead silent, sitting in the chair across from her in the living room. "Just give it a try. We can get you in next Friday, after state tests are over. If you can make it 'til then, we can schedule it tonight.""So, what, you've been planning this behind my back?""No. No, I just wanted to see what options we had. If you came to me about it. But I don't think you're seeing what I see.""And what do you see, Lora? What's wrong with me? If you know what's wrong with me, just diagnose me yourself," I reply."Honey. Please. You need someone to talk to that is still doing these things. You know I used to be a therapist, but I was suggested that I have you see someone else who isn't in your family. So you can tell that person anything, and all of it is confidential.""Why do you assume I even need it? Yeah, I'm not happy all the time. But nobody is.""I'm just worried, Lucian. You're hardly sleeping, and Amera's mom contacted me right before you got home.""W-what?" My heart sank, because I knew exactly where this was going. "What did she say?"

Lora gets up, and kneels in front of the chair I was sitting in. She spoke gently. Empathetically. "Amera told her mom that she's worried about you. She hasn't seen you eat lunch in over a week, and you haven't been wanting to talk with them as much. Like you've been distant. Did something happen with them?"

"No. Nothing happened with them," I mumble. When Lora looks up into my tear-filled eyes, I lose it. I lose all control. I sob, and trail off, spouting mostly gibberish she couldn't understand.

"Take a breath. Take a moment, sweetie. When you're ready, tell me how you've been really feeling. What goes on through your head, when you skip lunch, and avoid your friends."

I finally stop my crying, and my face turns red from embarrassment, and even more as I speak. "I don't know what's happening, honestly. I have these amazing new friends. An amazing new home, and Sebastian is back in my life. But I still feel like something isn't right. Like I'm not functioning right, like everyone else."Lora listens closely. She doesn't interrupt. She waits until I've finished my thought. "Like, maybe something isn't resolved?""Maybe. I don't know. It's like, I have all the tools to be happy. My life is good. But I don't feel good. I don't match my surroundings. Does that make sense?" I was doubting everything that came out of my own mouth as I spoke, truly just afraid it wouldn't make any sense to anyone, but Lora seemed to understand me more than anyone. And maybe that's just sad. That my mom could never be like my aunt. But it's what I needed right now, so I'm grateful, even as I'm breaking down silently in tears as we try to find a solution. "And, most of all... I worry. I worry about disappointing my mom every day, even though she isn't in my life anymore. I worry that I'm depressed, and that proves that she messed me up. Or maybe I'm so messed up, and that's why she doesn't bother staying in touch."Lora holds me close as I collapse onto the floor, and into her arms. She lets me cry. She doesn't yell at me to stop. She doesn't tell me to "suck it up," or slap me across the face until I've stopped crying, simply from shock. Lora doesn't see me any different. When I showed her that side of me, she just saw another piece of me that was hidden, instead of a whole different version that she was ashamed of."I'm just afraid of what people will think of me, if they knew I was like this.""Lucian, if you're depressed, or if you just need extra help, then you should be proud that you recognize that, and that you are doing something about it. Many people are too afraid to even do that.""I guess," I reply as I wipe the remaining tears from my face."Let's schedule an appointment, and then another a week later. After that, you can tell me at any point if it isn't helping, or you need to try something else," Lora offers."That would be alright," I sniffled.Lora and I sit up on the couch together, and I sit and wait with her as she gets ahold of the hospital, and makes an appointment with a therapist. What I loved most about Lora was that she never made me feel ashamed for having any feelings I did. And I know that I'm able to come to her to talk about things, but I will admit that she was right. There are some things involving my family I just need to get off my chest, without worrying if I'll offend Lora.After a conversation like we just had, it was going to be tough for Lora to trust myself alone in my room. So I stayed close to her the rest of the night, helping her cook, watching a movie with her, staying out in the living room in her sight until 9:30. It's not that I didn't trust myself to be alone. I wasn't going to hurt myself. I don't think I could ever be in such a dark place like that again. Still, partially for me, but mostly for Lora, I removed all sharp objects like thumb tacks, a pocket knife my dad gifted to me, and even a pair of safety scissors that somehow ended up in one of my bags when I moved here. Nothing with a blade that could be used for cutting. Nothing I could use to hurt myself was in my room anymore. I trusted myself at this moment, but I didn't trust Lora not to worry, and I didn't blame her. Well, maybe I was a bit worried about myself. I don't know. I didn't know why all of this was happening, when I thought for a whole two months I had moved past what started in the town I grew up in. Moving stopped the bullying. It probably saved my relationship with my dad. And cutting ties with my mom should have been just as great of a feeling. But for some reason, I just can't rest easily. I can't eat nearly as much as I used to. I can't speak of her without feeling like throwing up. I can't help but wonder if someday she will love me like I always hoped she would."Lora?""Yeah, hon?""Do you think that the therapist will be able to find out what screwed me up this bad?"She pauses the movie we are watching, and turns to face me completely. "Nothing screwed you up, Lucian. You've been through a lot. Some people didn't help you during your healing process, or your lowest moments like they should have. You've had much more stress put on you than most teenagers can handle.""So, I'm just destined to be a screw up," I reply flatly."You're not a screw up. You're strong, and you've endured one of the most heart wrenching battles. A broken relationship with a parent. People can say they have it worse, but how you were affected by something in the past can still be triggered by just the thought of it." She wipes a tear that escaped her eye as she spoke. These speeches hit close to home for her. Closer than I realized. "Your feelings are proof of the damage done, but your scars, your patience throughout all of this, and every second you're recovering is proof that you can make it through this."

"What if... there's no end? What if I have to take medication and go to therapy until the day I die?"

"It's better to have lived a life where you did everything you could to be happy. The mere thought of it may seem scary, or miserable at first, but a lot of people see therapists as adults. And as you get older, you'll realize that it's nothing to be ashamed of.""But, you don't think that will happen to me, do you?""All I know is, I see a bright and happy, long life of adulthood ahead of you, Lucian. I know you can make it through all of this. You're stronger than you realize."***After a long four days of testing, the whole high school finally got back to its normal routine. We had lunch at the normal time: 12:40. We went back to having four classes before lunch, and four after. We resumed having science, history, choir, and shop class as we usually did during the first half of the day. I had painted a small shelf I was going to give to Lora to put her crystals on. Amera helped me carve little sun and moon designs into it. And Liam helped me study during lunch.Something about this new school was so strange to me, and only now did I fully realize what it was: we wanted to help each other. It wasn't an all girls school, where all the girls fought with each other, and were really toxic. Talked behind each other's backs during study hall. We never had that mutual understanding that as a school, we were a team. Sure, there's cliques, and there's friend groups here, but my friend group is a healthy, supportive one. Where guys and girls could all get along. Even the drama with Jazmin and Sabine and Vera simmered, and Jazmin began sitting with us during our technology and coding class. We aren't competing to stand out because we are all different. Boys, girls, much more diversity than what I was used to. Some people even identified as gender nonconforming. There were clubs and support groups. I may not be my happiest, for whatever reason, but after the past couple weeks I had, it put so many things into perspective for me. I'm not alone. I'm not alone as I fight to have the right to stand out and be different. Be who I am. Sebastian loves me just the same. Lora wants me to get help. Liam respects everyone and their choices, and hasn't even mentioned what happened at the party since that next day. It was unbelievable how much support I had.Cass and I made our way down to the cafeteria. Lately, I have been just skipping lunch. I sometimes even went to the art room with Finn. And today, Finn invited me by text as I stood in line to get the food from the cafeteria for the first time in two weeks. Lora started packing me snacks in my bag to have when I got hungry after Amera's mom called her. So I would eat those at the end of the day.Finn: "Hey, wanna come down to the art room?"Me: "I don't know, I didn't bring a snack with me today."Finn: "I have food. Brought it from home."Finn's older sister was in town for the week and she made the best food and desserts. She was maybe even better than Diana, but I still miss her, and all the effort and love she put into her cooking. That was all I needed to hear to be convinced. I jump out of line and make my way around the corner, down the hall, and down two sets of stairs until I've made it to the floor where the art room was. I opened the door, and in the very back of the classroom was the table where Finn and I always sat. He was waiting with two fancy chicken sandwiches with lettuce and tomato, garlic bread, fresh vegetables, apple slices, and fresh baked peanut butter cookies. Our art teacher let us come down here to study or work on our projects while he was in the elementary classrooms having art class there. We used it as a time to eat, and talk. Finn and I have become very close by doing this."Hey," he greets me with a wide grin. He pulls out a seat to the left of him."Mm, yum. This all looks so good. Be sure to tell Jordy thank you.""I always do," Finn reassures. "Aren't you glad tests are all over now?""Mh, definitely," I replied with my mouth full of sandwich. "I've been so stressed this whole week. Well, and before, I guess. Lora's picking me up early today to take me to therapy."

Finn stops chewing completely, and tilts his head just slightly to the side. His brow furrows in concern, and he extends his hand to rest on mine. "Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

"No, no!" I shake my head frantically. I didn't want him to feel bad for me. Or, thinking I was insane. "I don't know, exactly. We're gonna figure it out. I just don't want to make this a big deal. There's nothing wrong with me. I hope.""Of course not. Nothing like that. But, sometimes a little help is needed. You're gonna be alright, Lucian. I go to therapy twice a week.""Really? I... didn't know that." I did wonder where he went when he left early during PE sometimes, but I just figured he got a pass because he has asthma."Yep. Been going since I was eight. Divorced parents, and grew up feeling a bit neglected. You know Jordy. She was like my mom, so when she moved out, it got harder for me.""So, is it still affecting you, then? Is that why you still go? I don't want to overstep my boundaries by asking, but...""No worries! I still go because it's nice to have someone to talk to. The divorce made me a bit sad. I still get sad," he explains. I could tell from the beginning by the look on his face that the last thing he wanted was to make me nervous about going. "It started from some specific event when I was a little kid. But now that I'm being more open about my feelings, and I'm on medication for it, the sadness doesn't affect me.""So, if my aunt is right, and I have... depression, will I have to keep seeing the therapist for the rest of my life? No offense to you, of course. I know that works best for you.""Well, I've actually been thinking about only seeing my therapist once a week, or every other week. There's no specific rules to how you use therapy to heal you. Some people only go a few times in a row, and then schedule when they need it, and not really have a specific person they go to. Trust me, I know plenty about these kinds of things. I've been there. I still go to work on opening up about my feelings.""I'm hoping I can at least find out why I'm so sad some days. Like, everything in my life is amazing, but something is still holding me back."Finn nods in understanding. "I know what you mean. While everyone was moving on after the divorce, I was still falling apart on the inside, behind closed doors. Just trust the process, Lucian. There are so many options for dealing with depression, and anxiety now. You'll find what works best for you. I know it.""You're so logical, Finn. So positive. My aunt pretty much told me the same thing last week. I guess it helps hearing these things from people that used to go through what I'm going through.""Those who are mistreated have to grow up fast, I guess," he shrugs. "Adults used to always say I talked and acted much more mature than most people my age.""Same with me," I smile, realizing I'm not as alone as I thought. I take a sip of my drink, and look back up at Finn with a hopeful glint in my eyes.We both looked at each other for a moment too long, and began... laughing. Laughing, and smiling, and goofing off. When Finn cracked up, his contagious laugh always infected me. We just barely had enough time to finish lunch. I cherished even more so after this afternoon our moments like this. With our fancy lunches and heart-to-heart talks and deep conversations, copying each other's homework before we turn it in when one of us forgot, and even when we would just share a few moments of complete silence, staring across the room at the artwork hung up on the wall.Over the past week, during our art class meetings, I painted an evil dog, a melting sunset, and an abstract piece during Free Choice day. The trippy sunset I made popped with purples and oranges, and hung up near the top right of the board on the wall. Finn admired the uniqueness in my art, and I admired the technical aspects that he was so good at. Much better than me. We admired each other's differences, and never had any issues with drama.I'll admit, I have issues with self sabotaging relationships. I want people to see the worst of me so they know what they may be getting themselves into. But I've gotten better with that, instead focusing on a storm cloud that seems to be following me around above my head. I don't have time to sabotage when I can't even articulate what it is specifically that people shouldn't like about me anymore. I still believe on most days though that my entire presence on this Earth was just a mistake. Everything about me is just a walking red flag people should stay away from. I used to think "just being different" was an excuse for all the problems I have, but I truly believe that now, my friends appreciate people like me, instead of bullying them and running them out of town. So whether or not my "red flag theory" is correct, I know who my true friends are. Even if I don't completely understand why I'm deserving of them.The rest of the day went by terribly slowly. As strange as it was, I had gotten a bit excited. All I wanted out of all of this was to find out why I can't be happy, as I should be. Even if there's no cure for my type of sadness, it would help to know why. Why am I here? Why did my mom put me through what she did? Why did my dad stay with her for so long? If we had let sooner, maybe the altercation with my parents wouldn't be the final straw that sent me away. Of course, this place is better for me. But I do believe that if my parents had gotten along better, or separated sooner, I could have avoided this. Then, would life be better for me still?I had plenty of time to think about these questions though, during the thirty minute car ride there. I knew these questions would most likely be answered by my therapist, but I still repeat those questions over and over in my head to make sure they still make sense.***"Put that skirt on. You're getting it, Atarah," my mother argued."Mom, it's too tight. I want those pants.""You're not gonna get anything but a slap across the face unless you try them. Slide that skirt up over your hips."I glance behind me, as if looking for a way out of the dressing room that wasn't the door that my mother was blocking. "I'm telling you, they-""I'm telling you that you need to exercise more."My mouth hangs open just slightly. I was left speechless. I was an exhausted, hungry seven year old that hated back-to-school-shopping. "It... it...""You need it so you won't be the only girl without a skirt.""What's wrong with the pants? They even have them in pink, see?" I pointed up above me to the hanger in the dressing room, which was getting warm and even more cramped and tight as I grew more frustrated.My mother rips the pants off the hanger. I knew I shouldn't have brought them in. She throws them hard on the ground and gives me a painful slap across the face, causing me to bite down on my lip. It started bleeding, and all over the white shirt she made me try on."Get that shirt off. Now!"My hot tears streamed down my face and dripped down, mixing with the blood that had already got on the front of the shirt. "I'm sorry," I murmured."Yeah. Get your clothes back on. I'll pick another shirt for you, then we're going home. And you're getting that fucking skirt.""I'll never wear it!""Do you want to end up like your Uncle Damien?""W-who...?" I ask hesitantly."He's a disgusting cross-dresser, and a disgrace to the family. The whole world. My beloved Christian community.""Maybe you should have him wear the skirt," I reply with a grin on my face. What was she going to do? Hit me again as we stepped out of the dressing room, right near three women working at the store?"Shut your dirty, sinful little mouth," she whispers through gritted teeth."Isn't hitting your kid a sin?" I ask her loud and clearly, right as we walk between the two workers. "And, aren't you wearing pants right now? Is it not a sin for you, then? Only me? Wouldn't that make you a cross-dresser?"I didn't remember too much about that car ride home. I got thrown into the back seat and kicked in the head. I fell asleep, and woke only to eat. I closed my eyes once again, and woke up in my room, and it was morning. That's when I heard my parents fighting about me for the first time."You're gonna give her fucking brain damage, Bianca! Why the hell would you even talk to her like that, anyways?! Let her wear the pants!""They were in the boy's section, Mihai. She would have looked stupid! The skirt didn't fit her anyways, so I'm making her look at it in her closet every day to motivate her to put down those burgers she eats.""You did not just say that," my father replied in a lower tone. "That's fucking sick. She's seven years old! Do you know what that can do to a kid?!""She's gonna turn out to be a proper, thin lady like me. Isn't that what you want?""No, Bianca. That's what you want! What about what she wants?! What makes her happy! You're setting her up to have an eating disorder! Depression! Your child hates you, B!"Sobbing, slamming doors. On the other side of the wall, there I was, pulling my hair out, and rocking back and forth. Wishing I would fall through the floor, down underneath the dirt, and die. Disappear, and never return. "I want to die, I want to die, I want to die," I repeated.

I was causing my mother pain and frustration, which hurt the worst for me. I always sought her approval. She gave birth to me, and all I've done is make her hit me. I make her treat me this way. I made mommy and daddy fight, I thought.

***The car ride went by surprisingly fast. More like ten minutes than thirty. Lora stayed quiet, because she knew I was in deep thought. She offered her hand to squeeze every now and then, when tears began to form in my eyes. I wipe them, and steady my shaking legs and hands as much as I can as we find a spot in the parking lot. It was quite far from the main building we would have to enter, so we took our time walking in, as Lora always makes it a priority to be early everywhere. "I think that after this first appointment, it will be a lot easier to come back."

I nod my head in agreement. "Definitely. I just hope... I can figure out why I am this way. I don't want to make this a big deal, you know? I don't want to be the 'sad kid.'"

"It's okay to be sad, Lucian. But I do understand. And trust me. You're known as something much more special than a sad kid." Lora holds my hand as we walk into the waiting room, which I would usually hate. But I needed the support right now, and I truly appreciate her finding me help. It's still just a bit embarrassing. I don't know how else to put it. It's just embarrassing that I have this bright future ahead of me and I'm sixteen years old, having breakdowns and days where I don't think I can continue living while I'm now in a good place where I would want to live. Something in my brain is just holding me back. I need to let go of... something."Lucian?"A tall, blonde haired woman with a bright smile and a colorful tie dye outfit calls me back to follow her into the behavioral health part of the hospital. She asks the usual questions: "How are you?", "How's the weather? I haven't been out since this morning." Her name is Penelope, and she is my therapist I will be seeing. I was already appreciative of her using my preferred name, and she had a kind smile and welcoming eyes. Her eyes were a light blue color, immediately catching my attention when she turned back to face me when she closed the door. The room we were in was a small, cozy size. There was a single window behind her desk. There were unusual surrealistic paintings on the wall. And sculptures and miniature figures filled the shelf above her desk and chair. As soon as I walk into the room, on the left right next to the door, there is a comfy looking chair that I could sit in. There was a white circular table between the chair I sat in and the one across from me, which was used for either group sessions, or for a more comfortable seat for my therapist. Penelope sat down across from me with her laptop and a small notepad. For this first session, I mainly just had to answer some questions about why I'm here, and what led me to this point."What brought you to therapy, Lucian?""My aunt noticed some things that even I tried to ignore. Like not eating, and, I used to harm myself. I thought it was just a fluke.""And when did this behavior start? What was this 'fluke?'"I take a deep breath in, taking my time to calm my nerves before responding. "I used to live with my parents, and their relationship wasn't great. They actually decided to get a divorce while I was being bullied at school." Penelope wrote down and confirmed that I now live with my aunt Lora, and that I have been living there for a couple of months.Penelope nods slowly as she types away on her computer. She looks back up at me and allows me to explain further. My voice began to break a bit, but I continued telling my story. "I got bullied for being transgender. I went to an all girls school for middle and high school. Before they even knew, I felt like everyone was going to find out.""And during that time, did you harm yourself?""Yes. After winter break, I came back and I was really sad. I skipped class and c-cut myself.""Where at?""Just my leg. I did it a couple more times after that. I kind of let my classmates find out I was transgender. I didn't care what happened as long as something would happen.""Because you felt like you were just stuck," she chimes in."Yeah. I didn't want to keep behaving like that, and was kind of hoping I would get sent away by my parents.""How is your relationship with your parents?"I take a moment to think about this question. "It's better with my dad. I found out soon before I moved that the aunt I am now living with had been contacting him. She wanted to meet me, but my dad kept her from me," I explained."Why do you feel that way?""He didn't let me meet her until they decided to send me to live with her. He wanted me to meet her, because she's transgender too. After he realized, a few months ago, he was supportive, even though my mom wasn't. My mom didn't want me anywhere near her. And my mom was always against people of that community. My dad was more like... forced? Forced to agree with her. We were both kind of scared of her.""Why scared? What was it like with your mom?" Penelope stops her typing to listen closely.

"She would... she would hit me sometimes. She wanted me to be a girly girl and wear skirts. Be thin, and never let me cut my hair. Which, I didn't mind. The hair thing. But I wasn't allowed to wear pants hardly ever to school. She was really controlling."

"When did you notice a strain on your parents' relationship? How did it affect you?""It started when I was around seven, I think. My mom and I had a fight, and she hurt me. I woke up the next morning, and my mom and dad were fighting about me. Their fights were always about how my mom parented me. I felt so bad that I was doing that," I explain through my tears.

"It sounds like your parents' relationship started to depend on you. Like you had to behave a certain way to keep their relationship together. Did you recognize that?"

Inhale deeply before letting go, and calming myself down so I don't begin crying more. "Yes, and no. I knew that it started to feel like my fault. I genuinely believed that the fate of their relationship was up to me. I felt like I was just in the way. I did know that it was stupid that they were fighting and they put a strain on things over me. I knew that my mom wasn't the best parent. But I figured that I could at least please my mom as much as I could. To save them."

"That must have been really stressful. Do you feel that even now, you still try to please your mom?"

I nod hesitantly. "We don't really talk anymore. She doesn't respond to my messages anymore. But I still have that anxiety about what choices I make some days. That if I do the wrong thing, or let my guard down, I'll ruin more relationships."The questions about my family seemed to never end. But when it finally did, I was relieved, and she could detect that. She straightens up her posture and smiles. "We're going to move onto some lighter questions. What do you want to see improve? What do you want from therapy? The end goal?""I guess I just want to find out what it is that is making me behave this way. Self sabotaging, and feeling depressed some days, even though I should be happy. Then, I just want to find a way to control it so I can appreciate these positive things finally.""Makes sense. I can definitely see that happening. And It's my pleasure to help people of all ages through situations quite similar to yours. I'm here to help you with finding outlets, and resources." Penelope continues on by giving me the numbers to suicide prevention hotlines, and coping mechanisms to try."We only have around eight more minutes left before I'm gonna have to end the session. I have one last little piece of information to fill out. I've already got the information on medical history, medication. Have you ever abused any substances? Alcohol, or marijuana?"I shake my head. "Nope.""Good. That's very good. Now, relationships. Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"Penelope immediately noticed the smile and blush spreading across my face before I even did. "Well, I have this thing, I suppose. this guy, named Sebastian. I knew him from my hometown. After I moved, we stayed in touch. Only, it was anonymously. I didn't know it was him. But, then he met me at a park two weeks ago, and he's actually moving here."She scribbles down some notes, then looks back up at me as I finish talking. "That's exciting! I bet that it felt nice to have a familiar face close to you now.""Yeah. Yeah, it brought back some bad memories, sure." I remind her of the story about the New Year's kiss. That this was the same guy. "But we are just kind of taking things slow. Nothing official. But he really does make me happy, and he's one of the main people in my support system helping me.""That's great to hear," she congratulates. "I'm glad you can recognize that. Do you have a stable friend group that seems to be healthy? Good for you?""Hm. I would say so. It's actually refreshing how little drama there is here at this school compared to my old school. Before, I only had Noa, and Sebastian as my friends. Plus Jesse, but he lives in Arizona. But now I have Finn, Zahara, Amera, Liam, Cass. All these people who are nice to me.""So, it sounds like your biggest obstacle is going to be dealing with internal issues, like depression, rather than external issues, like bad influences, or bullying.""Yeah," I confirm. "This is definitely a better environment for me. I actually feel kind of bad saying this, but It's been easier, not living with my mom."Penelope was very understanding. Surprisingly understanding, while remaining professional. I expected her to try to rationalize, or make excuses for my family's fucked up history. But she remained silent. Let me have a voice. I think Lora made the right decision suggesting this over making me talk to her about everything. Here, the filter comes off. I don't have many secrets of my past I hold close to me that I wouldn't tell someone trying to help me get better. When our session came to an end, she led me back out to the main waiting room, where Lora was on her phone, probably texting her new little guy friend. In my hands was her card with the next appointment's time and date written on it. Lora stands up and meets me in the center of the room, and thanks Penelope. My therapist wishes me the best up until our next visit, in three days. I would be going twice a week. She had already suggested talking about medication in the next few appointments. Then space out how often I go to therapy after my first appointment checking in with how my medication was working. Just in an hour, I felt so much weight I didn't know was unnecessary to have on me be lifted. I admitted to her just in our first session things about my childhood not even Noa knew the full story to. But again, I didn't really feel the need to hold back. That was even something Penelope brought up before I left. Why do I think it is that I can open up so easily to someone I just met today? Well, because she isn't my friend. My boyfriend, or situation-ship. Not my mom or dad, or aunt. I can't disappoint her the way I could the people closest to me."How was it?""Hm?" I follow Lora to the car and get in the passenger seat. "It was fine. She just asked me questions about... family. Stuff like that.""Was it hard? To talk about mom and dad, I mean. Or, I guess, you don't have to tell me anything. I should have clarified sooner. You don't have to tell me anything that went on in there if you don't want to.""Well, I won't go into detail, or bore you to death. But yeah, it was kind of hard. I didn't really think that much about how dramatic the change from home to moving here was. I guess it actually affected my mental state more than I even realized," I explain."I'm proud of you, you know?" Lora pulls out of the parking lot, and we begin our journey back home. I put on my headphones, close my eyes, and get lost in the music Sebastian recommended me to listen to last night.***Lora had to wake me up yesterday when we got back home. I knew I shouldn't have stayed up all night texting Seb. I fell asleep in my room before dinner, and then woke up this morning at five o'clock. I usually slept in, which was one difference between Sebastian and I. He somehow had the power to stay up late, wake up early, and still function properly. Sebastian texted me as soon as he woke up today, around six.Sebastian: "Good morning! I know you usually sleep in but if you're free at all today I would love some help moving in. I'll even pay you. No worries if you're busy today though, love you"