comfort {complete}

02

I had another therapy session today. Joc—she wants me to call her Joc, even though her name is Jocelyn Stone—asked me how I felt, I told her I couldn't really remember much of it—a lie—and then I left. These sessions aren't doing what my mother thinks they're doing for me.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm getting worse. 

It's been three months. I wish I could talk about it, but I can't. I see it and I think it and I feel it—I don't need to speak it, too. I don't want to say it out loud.

Rape is dark. And terrible. And I don't want to talk about it.

And I just can't make myself forget.

But I roll up to Jocelyn's office twice a week in one of my safe outfits--my mom's Rilo Kiley t-shirt, Kathy's jeans, Becca's cardigan--and curl up in my therapist's comfy loveseat until the hour is over. 

a/n: steph's safe outfits are based solely on my safe outfits and mine are usually the clothes of my family members because they make me feel comforted. i'm trying for some comic relief in later chapters, and by later chapters i mean chapter nine but. so don't give up because it's depressing. (unless you want to, no pressure.)