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|.02| ︻╦╤─ ҉ -¨ * ‧₊˚*♡ * *" ♡. ♡
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"So, ashley how have you been lately?"
Today was my third month in therapy. I've been going ever since the incident happened.
"Cool I guess." I shrugged.
"cool...is that all?" He asks.
"Yes frank, that is all." I teased him walking around the room.
" you're uncle told me about you going back to school next week, how do you feel about that?" I shrugged again, he took his glasses off this time, (oh no he means business.)
"Ashley, I'm trying to have an actual, meaningful conversation with you." he urges.
"and I'm trying to subtly avoid it thank you." I replied.
"exactly, you need to stop running away from your issues."
"but I'm good at it, I mean look at us. I've came here all summer and I'm still just as mentally ILL as I was 3 months ago. Ignoring all of my problems until they dissapear is much more appealing crying on a hard couch."
"that's simply not true ash, you're happier, wittier, you're getting better.... look, I'm not going to beg you to pour all of your emotions out to me today alright?, but I will ask you to take some time and look at yourself, look at your progress, how much you've grown, self reflect."
ఌ︎ꨄ︎
The shrill of the alarm slices through my sleep, a rude awakening as it always is. "Shut up, I beg," I mumble, my voice muffled by the mountain of pillows. My hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, emerges from the cocoon of my bed to slap at the alarm clock until it finally silences. I lie there for a moment longer, my eyes tracing the familiar cracks on the ceiling, as if they hold the secret map to navigating life-or at least to navigating this day.
I roll out of bed, the chill of the morning air wrapping around me like an unwelcome shroud. I shuffle to the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. Not ready for that yet. I brush my teeth mechanically, each stroke a reminder of the routines that keep me tethered to normalcy-or at least the semblance of it.
As the water splashes against my face, I try to shake off the remnants of dreams I can't quite remember but feel heavy with meaning. I pat my face dry, and finally, I let my gaze drift to the mirror. The person staring back at me is familiar but still feels like a stranger on some days. The eyes are a bit brighter, maybe, a flicker of wit and life that wasn't there three months ago. Frank might be onto something, even if I hate to admit it.
