I'm happy to say the remainder of my stint went smoothly. Well, as smoothly as someone with depression, OCD, anxiety, an eating disorder, a self-harming issue, and trauma the size of Texas could go. That said, it definitely felt superior compared to last time around.

I felt...better. Cured? Hell no. But I truly felt like I might have a firmer grip on my shit. I had several factors to thank for that.

One is Gloria. I had requested for her to bring me more fan mail to read. People can tell you you're important until they're blue in the face, but having physical evidence of it? It was nice.

That's not to slight anyone I know personally, either. I realize now that I got so lost in my own head it was impossible to see reality clearly. Taking to heart what people tell you to your face is difficult because you mean something to them, and you know they're going to like you regardless. It's a given they're going to try and make you feel better, and feel good about yourself. I just assumed my friends were only humoring me and the sanctity of our friendship by trying to encourage me. I thought they would tell me things that would make me feel better out of some sort of obligation because they were my friends.

That was another facet of why I truly felt better now. I really, really, really screwed up this time. I fucked over Jake, badly. There are things that can't be taken back, and words spoken that can't be undone. I felt like him and I had reached that point. There was no obliging here; I hurt people, and there were severe consequences.

Sorry isn't good enough sometimes, no matter how genuine it may be. Sometimes you can offer to help fix whatever you screwed up, but they don't have to accept it. Sometimes they don't want your help because to them, it's no longer worth it. You're no longer worth it. The relationship has become stagnant. It was a fucking hard lesson to learn, but I think I was starting to understand it.

Of course part of that realization is Tristan. Often I would spend my nights at the facility thinking about him. I couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten me. Had he tried to erase me from his mind? How much had he blissfully forgotten? It made me sad to think about, so fucking sad, because I remembered everything.

I remembered every smile. I remembered every smell. I remembered the first time he came up on my tour bus roof. I was drunk, and so fucking depressed. Through it all, he somehow still saw me. At that point in my life I didn't fucking know who or what I was anymore. But Tris? He saw there was still something there, something worth fighting for.

I didn't. Now I do. Sometimes you have to lose things before you can gain something more important.

Finally, I attribute feeling more stable this time around to Scott. My previous time here I was pretty alone. I mean, I made friends, yeah, sure. But when I had a panic attack, I went to the med wing instead of someone's room. I talked about my demons outside of group with Scott--I never had done that with anyone else. Scott was a rock I hadn't known I needed to help me heal the first time around.

So, between obliterating the two most meaningful relationships in my life, and getting help from Scott, well...I was a man reborn, a fucking phoenix. Orion (rockstar, jazzhands) was fucking back, and I was going to kick ass and take names. Perhaps more importantly, I wasn't going to let anything get in my way. Not even myself.

Just like last time, leaving the facility felt surreal. Unlike last time, however, there was no Jake and Ben. There was no surprise Tristan to whisk me away to the airport. It was just me, myself, and I, with my luggage and an Uber.

I was happy when I managed (somehow) to go through the airport undetected. I was even happier when I was left alone on the plane. My flight was first class, and I made it a point to have bought the front most aisle so no one could sit by me and everyone behind me would only see the back of my head. Well, hoodie.

I didn't want to go back home to Vermont. I couldn't. Not yet. It would be too raw. It would feel wrong without Tristan there. It would feel too empty; that big ass house I had would swallow me whole.

So instead I was heading for Minnesota. That itself caused me anxiety. My mom welcomed the idea with open arms; she wasn't who I was worried about.

I didn't want to face my siblings. But I loved them, so I couldn't hide away forever. John and Seth had eventually worked up the courage to call me. We had made amends already.

However...I had yet to speak with Amy. The last time we spoke was when I was in the hospital. As soon as I had my phone on me (we were allowed to look at cells occasionally, supervised, of course), I obsessively checked my voicemails, emails, messages.

Nothing from her. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

I didn't know if she was angry. I didn't know if she wanted anything to do with me. I didn't know if she just didn't know what to say. I didn't know what I was walking into, and I hated it.

My greatest fear though? That she loathed me. What if I showed up on mom's doorstep and got the cold shoulder? What if she avoided me like the plague? What if she never wanted to speak to me again and wanted nothing to do with me?

I tried so hard not to think about it. I was feeling good about my recovery. The thought of my sister, who had quickly become one of my favorite people in the whole damn world, becoming estranged, well... it kicked off my anxiety something fierce.

Once I arrived, it felt good to be standing on mom's porch. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. Within moments the door opened, and my mom stood in front of me. Immediately she smiled, looked like she may cry, and held open her arms. Grateful for it, I sunk into the hug. I legit don't know how long we stood there, on the threshold, just hugging. It was lovely though, and just what I needed.

"The guest bedroom is set up for you upstairs," my mom told me once we were in and the door was shut.

"T-thanks."

"Seth's away at college."

I nod. "Figured as much."

An awkward pause. "Um, did you want to get settled in, or—"

Another awkward pause. So I laughed, and we accidentally talked over one another.

"Getting settled is fine."---"Your brother and sister have been waiting for you."

I paused at the words. "O-oh. Um. I'd like to see them."

"Sure," my mom smiled, "then we'll get you squared away with your room."

"Sure."

"John! Amy! Your brother is here!"

I had grown accustomed to running feet any time my arrival was announced in this house. This time, however, my ears picked up regular walking. John made it down first. He hesitated for just the briefest second, and then broke out into a grin.

"Hey, Ori. Welcome home."

I grin. "S'up, John?"

When I try to shake his hand, he instead pulls me into a hug. It's a little awkward at first, but then I melt into it. After a moment longer we pat each other on the back and step away. John is grinning at me.

"It's good to see you, Orion. It really is."

"Thanks. It's good to see you too."

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't visit or anything—"

I wave my hand. "Dude it's fine. Seriously. No hard feelings."

My little brother beams at me. However, it's then I notice Amy slinking down the stairs. As soon as our eyes meet, she freezes.

Well. Here we go.