Lauren Sanders is struggling to rebuild her life with her aunt and cousin after her family's tragic death. But what no one knows is the truth about two things: how her parents really died and her battle with schizophrenia.
One day, Lauren stumbles...
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I went to see Dr. Nikki after a long period of missing my scheduled sessions with her. I was scared and unsure of myself when I walked into her office after the receptionist called my name.
I always had known what to say. If not, I always have a convincing story prepared in my head that I can tell her to get her to believe me and get our sessions over with. However, for the most part, I don't just pretend that I'm not in a great state because I know I can never hide behind it and lie about it since I have no concept of what it feels like to be great, genuinely.
After I took a seat, Dr. Nikki intertwines her fingers and rests them on her desk while smiling at me.
"How are you?" She asks, and just as I started to wonder why she didn't seem or sound mad at me for not showing up for our weekly sessions in the previous months, I realized that she is a psychiatrist. "It's been a long time, isn't it?"
I nodded my head, smiling cheekily, "It is."
"So, how are you?" She asks again.
I looked around in my thoughts for a narrative that I had prepared, but I couldn't find anything. As I leaned my back against the chair's backrest, I felt myself sigh.
"I've been busy," I told her. "I've been going out a lot with this... friend of mine."
She nods her head and continues to smile at me as she listens to what I have to say. I watch her lips as it makes an "o."
"I've been sketching a lot lately and I feel like I can paint now," I remembered as I told her that the other night when I couldn't sleep, I grabbed up my old sketchbook and just started sketching.
I've discovered that sketching again has been soothing over the past several weeks. I don't sense any anxiety creeping in on me or the voices in my head telling me I shouldn't be doing it. It was... liberating.
She tilts her head to the side, "So, you haven't gotten back into painting?" she asks as I nod my head to her question. "And you're not forcing yourself to paint?"
I shake my head, "No, I really feel like I can do it now. I don't feel or hear this voice inside my head where I should pressure myself to get in touch with my old self."
"And with your old self, you mean your creative roots?" She asks as I nodded my head, again, smiling.
She nods her head, scribbling something down before looking back at me again, "So, tell me about this friend of yours?"
Like I did previously, she stressed the term "friend." I was unsure of how to approach her about my relationship with Aaren. Especially considering the fact that we kissed (I kissed him) and that it had been about a month since then, none of us had the courage to discuss it openly—the kiss and the progress of our "relationship".
"You said you've been going out with your friend?"
I crossed my leg over the other, "Yes. We've been going to different places here in California," I told her, not sure whether I should mention the notes or not.
