"The third year of our relationship involved the messy, 'I love you,' and where we had finally had that moment of sharing our love."

This third session I have been hoping is my last and final, but I know it actually won't be. Harry and I's relationship had lasted six years, and there was very much details about each year. But, as I tell Mrs. Forman about the little things in our relationship that seemingly means to be the big and important ideas, I do not tell her about every single damn thing.

There were times when Harry and I would not talk for days, and I strangely could not believe that I went that long without seeing him or hearing his voice. Our fights would involve the most brought up subject of his band and the travels. Sometimes, the fights included my parents and their decisions of Harry. From what they had seen of Harry from our past three year relationship, they had came to the conclusion fairly quick that he was some twenty-year-old boy, who had his ego packed inside his body until it would eventually explode. The ego had come from his looks, they had thought, as well as the fact that Harry was the lead singer of The Stoners and was told he had such a beautiful voice.

From what I have seen on the television, Harry's voice is still elegantly amazing. My parents had terrible judgement of him for some reason, and I still never understand quite why. Maybe it was the whole 'bad boy' image Harry had slightly played off; he was a fan of intimidating people at times. But, most of the times, he acted okay and fine. Harry just liked the idea of having two sides.

"How many highlights do you have of the third year of Harry and your relationship?" Mrs. Forman pulls my lingering mind out of my contemplations, and instantly, my eyes are met with her pen scribbling down unknown thoughts.

"There were many, very many. I mean, almost every damn second was the highlight of our relationship. Harry told me he loved me in the third year, and this was also when he took his first small tour," my hands find their way to picking at the loose strands of my shirt.

I am not going to tell the shrink about every single damn detail about the third year. Harry and I had finally had sex after confessing our love for each other, but it had took a while. My mind had consciously been deciding if I was in love with him or not, months after Harry told me that he loved me. It wasn't a very good time of when Harry told me his little confirmation. Harry had took me to another party, and in the midst of his drunkenness, he ran upstairs and grabbed me with him. As he was puking in the toilet, he yelled out the words, 'God, I'm so in love with you,' which immediately made me think it was the alcohol running through his blood. It wasn't come to find out in a couple hours.

"Did you both have a fight over it?"

"What?" I ask, completely oblivious to what Mrs. Forman is talking about.

"What I am asking, Ms. Young, is if you and Harry had a fight over the tour," she is becoming impatient with me, I can easily tell. Her face has contorted into a mixture of anger, showing off the slight wrinkles indented into the skin, as well as annoyance. My zoning off has been too much to handle for her, and believe me, if I am in her position, the feeling would probably be the same, too.

"Of course we did," a dry laugh falls out of my chapped lips. I can feel the tears prickling at the memories of our past fights, but my eyes close to push them behind. "There were many fights, Mrs. Forman, and frankly, I think I have already told you that many of times."

Mrs. Forman is now on the verge of anger, almost past her limit. It's not like I burned her with that, I had been speaking the truth. I have been telling her countless times that Harry and I fought in more ways she could think of in tragic ways. She knows, God, how much she knows is terrible. But, to my parents, I'm the sad girl who just got out of a six year relationship and needs help coping with it, even though the relationship ended almost a year ago.

"Ms. Young, I know-"

"God, and please stop calling me that. I hate it, I hate it so much. He used to call me that and I can't stand any longer to hear it," I interrupt her, tilting my head down and using my short, blonde hair to use it as a cover so the shrink does not see the small tears gathering in my eyes.

"Brooklyn."

Harry's standing in front of me with his hands on his hips, a frown falling upon his face. My mind has zoomed out for the past few days, and I think to blame it easily on the fact of the exams I have been bombarded with. My brain has been going a mile a minute on which class I have tomorrow as well as working around with Harry's band schedule to spend time with him.

"Sorry, I've just been so- I don't know. It's been hectic these past few days," my hand instantly jerks toward my hair to tug at the roots. Harry notices this and the frown drops from his face.

"I know. But, maybe you should just take a break. It's a Friday night and we can have a lazy day together or go out," he suggests, his body looking to find something to lean on, which results in being our kitchen counter.

Exams have lasted all damn week, and thankfully, they ended next Friday. Since summer is among us, the college automatically decides to have exams the week classes end. And almost being a junior in college makes me ecstatic, knowing that I have almost finished halfway through.

"It's whatever you want," I blurt, walking over to my phone to check the time. God, is it really almost midnight? "Well, considering that is close to being a new day, we can watch a movie or something, unless you have something else in mind."

A smirk makes its way across Harry's face as it finally hits me of his dirty mind. "I have a lot of things in mind, but since you look awfully tired, let's cuddle and watch a horror movie, Ms. Young."

"Ms. Young, eh?" I question, my body finding its way to the living room to search through the tons of movies stashed under the television. When did we get so many?

"Yeah, you kind of remind me of an old woman sometimes because of your whole studying schedule and whatnot. Ms. Young really fits you," I hear Harry's boots scuffle across the hardwood floor and a pang of annoyance flashes in me as I remember telling him hours ago to take the damn things off so he wouldn't track in any dirt.

"It is my last name, you know."

Harry never stopped calling me that until the end. He would call me it when I was either in a hurry and acting as if I was more grown up than my age, or if we were in another arguement. Usually, if it was in an argument, it would be used to make me mad or to lighten up the conversation and make me even less more angry. It sometimes did not work.

"Ms. Youn- Brooklyn, are you okay?" Mrs. Forman stops herself from saying the banished name and notices my terrible stance. It's just the memory, but it brings back more and more of our old relationship, and it's all a tragic thing to be honest.

"I'm fine," I grit through my teeth, my hand coming to pull at the roots of my hair. "Next question, Mrs. Forman? Anything else you need to know about my Goddamn life or unhealthy relationship? It's all over, so why the hell are you trying to bring up something that has already ended?"

I can feel the breakdown happening, but I am desperately trying not to let anything fall, just like my heart when the breakup happened. There's many mixed emotions going through my mind, but the only one that simply makes me almost cry is the one that ruined me completely; love. Something went wrong in connection, and I feel as if one of us loved too much while the other was losing it.

"Brooklyn, please just cooperate with me. I'm try-"

"No, I'm tired of everyone saying that they can fucking help me get over it. It's almost been a year, I think I'm fine. If I need help, I can do it on my own. For God's sake, I'm almost twenty-four-years-old, and I'm sitting in here by my parent's forcing me," there's more to rant rather than that, but by the look on my shrink's face, I can tell she feels sympathy.

Sympathy.

Nothing I have ever wanted from a single damn human being because of a break-up.

"We only have a couple minutes left," the shrink mutters while looking at her watch, trying to be unfazed by the situation that happened moments ago. "I'm going to ask you one more question, Brooklyn, and you can decide if you want to answer it or not."

She takes my silence as a move to carry on with her speech, although she can't see my face. It's now covered in tears, but the sheet of hair surrounding it is doing a good job at hiding. And then comes the question I really have to think about, because honestly, it has never come to my mind before the stress.

"Do you miss him?"

And what a surprise it is when the words come tumbling out of my mouth.

"No, I miss the person I fell in love with, which isn't him. He's an entirely new person now. The guy controlling that body isn't the one I knew. I don't know what made him change, but I held on for months, hoping he was still there. I don't know where he is, probably roaming another country with his band, but I don't think he will return. You can only hold on for so long before giving up, and I did everything I could and tried to give him my best but he isn't here anymore. I miss the person he was, but no, not the person there right now."