Angela sat outside in the waiting room, her legs bouncing as the clock ticked away. She was nervous before each session with her therapist. She was nervous before talking about herself. For some reason in her, mind talking about yourself made you selfish. Even if it is just sharing your thoughts or problems. Angela didn't understand some people when you ask them how they are and they end up telling you their whole life story. Angela couldn't do that even if she wanted to. Sometimes even at her job when she simply asked a customer how they were, she listened to all of their medical and personal problems while scanning their items. And she couldn't just simply ignore them. Angela listened and tried to talk to them if she had the time even if she wasn't in the right mindset for it. She still tried. A lot of people just need someone that listened to them.

But she wasn't like that. She hated talking about her feelings, she hated talking about her situation either with school, her job or just her every day life. She hated sharing things about herself to others. Most of the time she stayed quiet, also because she thought that nobody was actually interested in her side of the story. At least it didn't seem like it at all to her. Even her therapist, she was paid to listen to her, to help her, to talk to her. It wasn't genuine interest, it never would be.

The door opened and Mrs. Hawthorne's head peaked out, offering a big smile in Angela's direction. "Hello, Angela, please, come in."

Angela got up from the bench on which she patiently sat on and made her way inside the small office. The room wasn't exactly cosy. Everything was white, except for the two grey armchairs and the black computer. Otherwise, the walls, the floor, the desk and the drawers were all white. The only thing that gave her comfort was the window that was showing that beautiful tree which Angela often kept her eye on since she hoped to see a squirrel one day. Maybe, just maybe.

Angela sat down in one armchair and Dr. Hawthorne in the other. She placed a clipperboard with a blank paper on her legs and made herself comfortable, crossing on leg over the other. While Angela sat there, crouched forward, her forearms resting on her legs and gripping on the edges of her sleeves.

It was quiet, Dr. Hawthorne didn't say a word and neither did Angela. Instead they sat there in silence, the therapist watching Angela as she slightly rocked back and forth since she couldn't keep still. The beginning of the sessions were always the hardest for her. She didn't know what to say, she didn't know how to analyze her week up until the session, she didn't know how she felt in that moment. All she knew was that she was nervous and didn't exactly want to talk about herself. She wanted to ask Dr. Hawthorne personal questions so bad, wanting to learn from her as a stable person. Was she a stable person? Or was the doctor wearing a facade as well. That she couldn't know and she doubted she would ever know. For now all she knew about her doctor was her name and that she speaks Italian as well. And that was all she could learn from her. Therapists were so good at not talking about themselves and only listening. Maybe Angela could switch professions since she was way better at listening to people, than talking. But in the end, music was what she lived for.

"How has your week been, Angela?"

Angela shifted in her seat, pulling up the sleeves in her palms a bit more and looked outside the window, away from the doctor. Her week? It wasn't that bad, thanks to Kaitlyn that is.

"Alright," Angela quietly replied, her eyes focousing now on the sleeves of her hoodie. Besides the concert, her week was the same as always. She went to work, she slept and she cried. It was the same each time.

"Have you managed to take a few days off from work?"

"No, it's too busy right now to do that."

Dr. Hawthorne sighed slightly and looked at Angela worridly. She set down her pen and tilted her head slightly to the side. "Angela, it would be a good idea if you could take one small break from your busy schedule... How are you sleeping?"

Angela glanced at the doctor then looked back down at the sleeves. A break? How could she go to her boss, tell her that she needed a break in the busiest time in the month and stay home while she desperately needed the money to cover her rent? Maybe she needed a break, but she sure as hell could not take one. And that the doctor didn't understand.

"Alright," Angela replied slowly. Was her sleepuing alright? Sometimes she could barely get some shut eye and sometimes she had nightmares when she actually fell asleep. But at least she was sleeping, right?

"From the seven nights in this week, how many times did you sleep for at least six hours?"

"None."

Dr. Hawthorne wrote down a comment on her paper then turned her attention back to Angela. She pressed her lips together, gathering her thoughts as Angela kept her eyes on her sleeves. She didn't need that much sleep, a few hours were enough for her. Besides, she didn't like sleeping. She hated waking up with a fast beating heart, all sweaty and out of breath, an aching feeling pressing on her chest. After her nightmares it was difficult to go on with the day. The aching feeling in her chest stayed with her the whole day, the flashing images of her nightmares appearing in her head in the moments she needed them the least. And it was hard for her to function if she slept and had nightmares.

"But your week was alright?"

"Yes," Angela confirmed, nodding. She didn't sleep, but that didn't mean she had a terrible week, right? Some positivity had to be there.

"What happened? What did you do?"

"I went out with a friend," a quiet reply, but it was accompanied with a slight smile. Despite dodging so many calls from Kaitlyn, despite telling her she wasn't okay, she was still glad she went to that concert. She needed it. At least for a bit she forgot what was happening in her head.

"Oh, that's really nice to hear. Did she invite you or did you take the initiative?" Dr. Hawthorne marked something on her piece of paper again then turned her attention back to her patient.

"She called. A few times. I didn't want to go."

"But you went anyway. Did you spend a good time with her?"

"Yes."

Dr. Hawthorne nodded and hummed. She kept her focous on Angela, watching her rock back and forth. She waited for her to say something, to tell her more about that day when she went out, to hear more about those fond memories Angela seemed to have. But instead, she got nothing. Angela kept quiet, staring at her sleeves, the small smile that appeared on her face now long gone. The therapist leaned back in her chair and patiently waited for Angela to say something more while slowly coming up with other questions that seemed to bother Angela.

"Despite having a good week, you seem to have less to say than normally."

"I have nothing to say."

"So you went out with your friend one day. What about the rest of the days? How were you feeling?"

Angela looked up at the doctor, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, to protest, to talk back. But instead nothing came out. Angela closed her mouth then looked back at her sleeves. "Fine."

Dr. Hawthorne sighed and took the clipboard in her hands, now placing it on the desk. She leaned forward towards Angela and spoke softly. "What about your evenings? When it usually gets worse?"

"Fine."

The therapist pressed her lips together tightly, her focous staying on Angela. She wanted more than just those simple words, she wanted to know how Angela was doing besides fine. But instead of prying like Angela thought she would, Dr. Hawthorne only nodded and leaned back in her chair comfortably.

"Okay. I am glad to know that you have spent a nice time with your friend. It is important, especially in the hardest moments to stay connected with the people we love, people we care about and the people that care about us. It would be good for you if you meet up with her more often, if you are comfortable with it. Your friend seems to have a positive impact on you and that is what you need. Do you agree?"

Angela looked down at her feet and nodded to her question. It wasn't like she didn't want to hang out with Kaitlyn, she just didn't have the energy for it. It took so much of her to even answer her calls and talk to her about simple things. Hanging out was sucking out the energy she really didn't have anymore. And she wanted to be present, conscious, okay when talking to her. Because Kaitlyn deserved a good friend.

"I know I ask you each time, but I have to know. Did you take your medication regularly in this past week?"

Angela once again nodded.

"Good. Now I know this might be a bit difficult for you to answer so please take your time. Have your been experiencing any suicidal thoughts?"

Angela sucked in a sharp breath and looked at her hands. They were clean, her nails were painted black. There was a small beauty spot below her right thumb and a small scar running down her palm from when she cut herself when she was little. Her eyes then focoused on her feet. She was wearing black Vans with black laces. And her long cargo pants were black too along with a long sleeved balck top. She dressed like she didn't have much to wear. She changed between the same clothes, washed of course, but the same. She didn't put much thought to what she wore, as long as she was comfortable.

It's funny how you can not care what you wear but care what people think of you or your clothes so much. It was ironic. It was difficult. Her stomach flipped when she noticed someone gave her a disapproving look over something she did, said or wore. She cared. She hated the judging looks when she wore t-shirts and her scars got noticed. She cared about those looks, she hated the fact that she cared so much. Yet she didn't care what she did to her body.

"They have been staying in my head," Angela replied quietly and crossed her fingers. "It was better when I was out, when I was with Kaitlyn. But they didn't go away."

Angela sighed and closed her eyes. This wasn't how she planned to start her day - a session talking about her suicidal thoughts.

Dr. Hawthorne nodded and took a note before focousing back on Angela. "How intense were they?"

"I wanted to suffocate myself with the pillow. I, I tried. And I wanted to overdose on Xanax, but I didn't. I cut myself. I wanted to do it on the arm, I wanted to cut the vessel, but I didn't. I want to stop breathing, stop existing. I want to so bad, but I can't. I don't know why, I just can't. My body doesn't want to."

The doctor nodded and offered her a sympathetic look. Angela now focoused on the ring on her finger, twisting it around between her fingertips. A few years ago she wouldn't have been able to talk to somebody about this, but she convinced herself to give therapy a real shot. To try and get better, to be better. If she could.

"How about we try and explore what is this thing that is keeping you back? We can expand on it and try to focous on it, so whenever these thoughts come back you can focous on it."

Angela looked up at Dr. Hawthorne, her throat feeling like it was going to close up. "I don't want to."

"I am not forcing you to. But I think it would be a good idea then to give it a thought on your own. Then maybe we can talk about it sometime later."

Angela shook her head in disagreement and swallowed. This wasn't what she wanted.

"No. I don't want to. Because..." Angela sighed and looked down at her hands, still twirling the ring between her fingers. "I'll just eliminate it. I'll make sure I have nothing to hold me back then."

Dr. Hawthorne just watched her. She gave no reaction, only listened. Sometimes Angela wanted a reaction, just so she could get a clue about how Dr. Hawthorne was as a person. Yet she got nothing. Instead, the doctor took a few more notes before deciding on a new plan.

"I will talk to your psychiatrist. I will let her know how you feel and we can try to calm down your thoughts through medication. She is the expert on it, so she will go through it with you. But I am letting you know that we can, in fact, calm down your thoughts."

Angela's stomach flipped. What did she mean by that? That she could cure suicidal thoughts with some pills? Was she serious? Did Angela even want that? So many times she wanted to die, so many times she was just at the edge, the only step missing was taking that final cut, breath, pill. And she couldn't. She hated herself that she couldn't do that one simple thing. One thing and it would get her exactly what she wished for.

"Is that okay with you?"

Angela slowly nodded. As the doctor said, she would discuss it with the other doctor. Dr. Hawthotnr took a few more notes and then set aside the clipper board again along with her pen. She relaxed in her seat and offered Angela a small smile.

"Okay, now I would like us to do an exercise. Breathing meditation. So let's start with relaxing your body, leaning back in the chair and setting your palms flat on your thighs."

Angela sighed, not exactly wanting to do this exercise right now, but she didn't have much of a choice. Maybe it would help her. She did as the doctor told her and relaxed.

"Now, I want you to either close your eyes or keep a soft gaze in front of you."

Angela closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't fond of meditation, it was hard for her to calm down and focous on her breathing. Sometimes focousing on her breathing only made her anxiety worse. But she went along with it, she tried to calm down and listen to the instructions of her doctor.

So they sat there for a few minutes, maybe ten or fifteen, focousing on their breathing, on the feeling of their feet on their ground and their back leaned against the chair. Just that, they focoused on only that, trying to keep away all the other thoughts. It is a hard exercise, not thinking about something else, sending thoughts away like it was easy. It wasn't.

She tried to do it every day, or at least more often but her head never felt like it could calm down, like she could take a few minute for herself and just breathe with her eyes closed. But at least they made it a habit to do it each session. Sometimes it went better, sometimes it went worse. Sometimes she couldn't sit still, she couldn't keep quiet. It was like shock running through her body. And sometimes, she managed to stay calm and focous on the physical feelings of her body. It helped sometimes.

----

Hello everyone,
I hope you are enjoying this book!
Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow! Thank you!