[Settling by Summer Walker]

COMMNT COMMENT COMMENT VOTE x

TWENTY-FOUR: when you finally find your footing.

I've made it through all my bad days so far.

Even if that sounded like something out of a self-help book, I tried to remind myself the things that Dr. Thorpe and I went over in therapy that week. Since my lack of ability to retain information often hindered me in learning, a year prior, I'd realized that maybe that also applied to my health.

Maybe I needed to remind myself by rewriting the changes I wanted to make in life. That and weakly journaling had gotten me into the kick of writing my feelings down. And I'd spend hours just writing down anything and everything that came to mind, trying to understand myself more.

And on top of this list, it was always the reminder to do things that made me happy. A lot of the time, when I started to open my notebook, there were days that just that reminder was enough. Those days were often hard to remember when things got difficult again and on those bad days, I'd venture further down the page.

I'm not alone.

I am allowed to feel pain.

I've made it through all my bad days so far.

With everything getting aired out again, I'd gotten back into the habit of journaling, bought a new composition book and skimmed through my old one, snatching out the good pages and stacking them in a folder with the rest of my work. It was outdated, the whole concept of journalling but typing everything did nothing.

Physically writing was easier to get my thoughts in order, anger tiring itself out with the heaviness of my writing, pressure put on my pen and pushing out that rigidness I was holding when I suppressed my own anxiety. Three years ago having a diary would've felt so fucking weird but when life beat me up, I guess I realized that I had actual feelings.

And they were deep and crippling and I had so many fears and so many unresolved issues that crept into my mind at 3 am.

The whole situation with Calum made me so incredibly vulnerable that sometimes, I'd sit down and think about times that I didn't feel this insane, unrelenting pressure to make other people like me.

Maybe my emotional baggage actually did alter me completely and maybe this cross on my neck was only a reminder of that.

I thought I was in love with the boy on the football team... the crazy popular blond who had daddy issues because it was idealistic, it kept me away from my own problems. If I couldn't fix what problems I had, maybe I could fix him.

Then I actually fell so far in love with a man who had so much fucking baggage and buried it so deep in himself. A person who had an internet persona and who did charity work, burrowing himself in everyone else's problems to distract from his.

And I was starting to think that had a lot to do with my mother's lack of presence in general. Her inability to separate her faith and her children as individuals. How that fueled my lack of understanding for why people were religious anyways.

Why people believed in anything when everything was so goddamn pointless.

After Paul left, I showered. I took a second to venture downstairs to grab another banana and I took the time to do some things for myself that used to keep me sane. I watched college basketball highlights -basketball cause soccer would bring me down- and thought about normal, stressless things again.

Like video games and music and hanging out with my friends. I actually found myself with enough contentment and some inspiration to work on this new project I'd been holding back on.

Even if no one would read it.

It was prompted off of a Comm assignment I'd missed months prior, it scribbled down at the head of the page. What are the best alternatives to verbal communication in your day to day? Professor Stevens was sure to emphasize that it had to be personal, somehow everything in his lectures were and I never realized how important that probably was.

Instead of the five page paper I was supposed to write at the time, it turned into me mulling over the fact that there just weren't many people around to talk to anymore. And in order to not let it depress me, I partied the whole weekend and buried myself in work for other classes.

Looking back, maybe the assignment had something to do with what Paul was talking about when he said I needed to get to know myself.

I had more to show for my personal relationships than all the chaos I'd cycled through the past year. And somehow the new closed door on top of all the other closed doors I'd pried open to my relationship with Paul had me staring at this prompt yet again.

How had emotional availability, vulnerability and non-verbal cues affected my most personal relationships and who would I be if they allowed my hinderance to talking, break bridges? Who was I in terms of communication and why was I like that?

But maybe I was just yearning to do something fun again and that started with trying to write my way out of a cycle of sadness. Everything had been so fucking mixed up for weeks and the last time I actually laughed had to have been the club with Wren maybe?

And still, that was only for five minutes at the most before I let myself fall back into the cycle.

Again and again. I missed other people enjoying being around me, I missed having company without them being worried about my health at every turn.

When inspiration proved unsuccessful, I sat there on my bed, eyes downturned onto a blank piece of paper. Pen in my mouth, I tried to stay focused and it worked somewhat. I got lost in my own head again, overthinking the past three years of my life again and again and trying to remember what kickstarted these bonds I'd been trying to remind myself of. I'm not alone.

Andy -even if we hadn't talked in months- had fallen back into friendship without a hitch. Benji was calling at least once a week now and Wren, Wren facetimed me that morning, shortly after my ex boyfriend had found his way out.

He asked if I talked to my family and I didn't quite know how to answer that. I did, kind of, they somewhat knew what was going on... we talked enough.

But my smile was still forced, eyes drooped and even if Wren had a bright grin and was going on about binge hate-watching bad rom-coms with his roommate, he obviously could see through my assurances. But I was okay, I mean, I was pretty okay. I was feeling way better than before, my therapist said that was progress.

She'd emailed me references to a psychiatrist in Santa Barbara, assuring that they were well trusted and their accolades when researched proved it. And still, I found myself struggling to think of this as a positive.

Something in me knew it wasn't a the most desirable circumstances but everything was settled now, I didn't have much holding me back. My dad and I talked, he seemed sincere, and everyone else was moving on.

Staying stagnant in Brighton wouldn't do much for me, not for my health either. Staying in my dad's house and imposing on this new family he was building,.. not knowing where I was now let alone where I was going... that just didn't seem fair to any of them.

Jade was right, he'd sacrificed a lot for us and it almost felt wrong to ask for more. So as for those bonds I had, they were stable but not strong, not strong enough to keep me rooted and maybe that was how things were supposed to be.

Maybe I had to do things alone, I'd asked for it for so long, what was holding me back?

"Paul was here..." Jason Douglas lingered in my doorway, brown hair curled behind his ears and he had a lazy smile on his face. It was becoming less rare for him to seem relaxed, maybe that was what love did for him.

I wasn't sure what Andria was changing in him but I'd never seen him smile so much and I tried to be happy, tried to take that as a sign that things were looking up.

Nodding, I offered a shaky smile, fingertips curling around the blanket to prevent a clenched fist. I tried to stay indifferent and it was actually easier than expected. "Yeah."

I didn't think it would pass so quickly.

"What happened?" He'd asked, stepping further into my room as if conversation was an invitation. He was fidgeting and it put me on edge a bit, the way he interlocked and unlocked his fingers, brushing hair off his forehead, leaning on his left and then his right and back again.

It was weird to see him nervous, he was always calm and collected. I wondered how he was in court and that proved even harder when he was dressed in sweats and his hair was messy. I wasn't sure when he stopped styling it every morning but the haircut actually looked good on him, made him look younger.

Maybe that was what love did for him.

"Nothing."

It was silent and I could tell that my response wasn't enough so I tacked on a simple, "we talked," at the end, a shrug following to ease him further.

He nodded, it short and when I thought he'd leave me alone, he strode in taking a seat on my gaming chair and it reminded me so much of coming out that my heart clenched in my chest. "Oh."

And there was confusion in his voice, it coming out as more of a question than a statement, with slight hesitance and I knew where it was coming from.

Paul and I were always so wrapped up in each other, I was always so preoccupied and a serious talk with him would normally consume me for so long afterwards.

I'd mull over what was said and regret what wasn't and it always silently drove me insane.

Somewhere along the breakups and makeups things with us got so complicated and it was great but it was always so multifaceted and time consuming and thoughtful. I missed when things were just... easy. When we didn't have so much history to consider.

But it wasn't like that this time, it was kind of... peaceful. Finally, I felt some kind of normalcy and it was really refreshing so I fell into it, allowed myself to feel the same bit of peace for as long as I had it.

Some Mac Miller song was still playing in the background, I wasn't registering the lyrics but the melody was so soothing that it felt like I was finally exhaling. I hated how much closure with Paul felt like I was letting him go.

Because I hadn't cried yet and it started to feel like maybe I just didn't love him as much anymore.

"We're friends." Was all that needed to be said because that was all that really mattered on that front now. Whatever Paul and I had was on hold now and I had to just be his friend especially since he needed someone in his corner again. He wasn't okay, that much was obvious, and he didn't know how to handle it.

And I didn't know what he wanted me to do about it or if he even wanted me to know, he tried to hard to avoid talking about himself.

I tried not to think of that, tried not to overthink the soft caresses and kisses and the hug that lasted way too long before he left. How he was crying more and more soft spoken now and how nervous he seemed, how reserved.

Jason Douglas always had weird tells for when the conversation was going to go south- or at least into dangerous territory and I expected all the works. I expected the peaceful, conversational nudging he'd do when he thought I was wrong, he'd smile and nod and then slightly allude to what he thought of my decision.

That was how it was when I was 5 and my best friend was this kid called Kevin Cramer. For some reason, probably just a feeling, my dad didn't like him. And he didn't want me hanging around him. So he started with a talk, then some slightly persuasive words like 'don't you think' and 'it's almost summer,' intended to make me make more friends.

Then he drove it home with a 'wanna go to camp?'

Camp turned into church camp but it separated us long enough for whatever my dad was afraid of happening, happened. Kevin Cramer's mother showed up in church sometime over break, crying about evil in her baby.

And in freshman year, he had a hearing for attempting to murder a neighborhood kid for kicking a ball in their yard. My dad ended up representing that kid, Kevin Cramer was institutionalized, and we never did talk about it.

So, yeah, he was always pretty right when it came to things like that. And even with that ability, I couldn't stop wondering where was this with Calum?

Closing my book, I set it to the side, nerve smashing through me like a freight train and I tried to remind myself where I was now. Still, my throat tightened a little, only briefly and I found myself nodding again as if to tell myself that everything was okay and it would continue to be okay.

I didn't give myself my allowance to think of Paul since he'd left and I could still feel his lips pressed to my forehead, his palms on my jaw, his hug. He hugged me before he left, holding me so tight and I had the energy to squeeze a little tighter for him.

Maybe he was right, maybe I only wanted to get back together because it was comfortable.

Maybe being in love with him was so easy and being with him just felt so normal that I wanted that again. I wanted to be in love with him because it just felt right, and it felt like the only way to be and God, even thinking about him still hurt.

And I tried to convince myself that it didn't.

I was strong enough to smile at him, tell him he could call me whenever. All I could think about was his Abuela and how much losing her would destroy him and he'd been there for me way too much for me not to do the same.

So I told him that I loved him and that everything was gonna be okay even if I wasn't so sure on the second. And he promised he'd get to an AA meeting, even if it didn't feel all that truthful. We left it at that.

It was weird how easy it was to let him leave, how much lighter I felt when he did. That was the thing about pain, you get used to it and maybe I'd felt it for so long, mourned the relationship so much that when it was finally over... it was easy to forget.

"Friends?"

Nodding, I blew out a soft sigh grabbing back for my book. "I think it's good that way." Flipping through pages wasn't easy when I could feel his stare on me again. And I tried to remind myself that it came from a place of worry that was set by a precedent. Every time Paul was involved, my emotions festered, all of them.

Insanely good days would be more prevalent but I would always hit a plateau, always. And the bad days would feel infinitely worse, it would be so hard to remember the good days and.. and I was starting to remind myself that it wasn't any specific person or thing that made it like that.

Those feelings that I had existed and would continue to exist and it was all about managing them. And it was okay, it would be okay, I've made it through all my bad days so far.

I tried to smile again, but it was awkward now and I was sure he could feel it. I wasn't sure when we'd drifted so far apart but it was weird for him to be here this long.

Allow your family and friends to be there for you, they love you, Julian.

"Yeah." My dad breathed out and when I looked up, he was looking past me, as if in thought. "Yeah, I do too." He nodded.

It was silent again.

I found myself writing down the affirmations that Dr. Thorpe and I had run through the last meeting, tried flipping back through the last week of writing. I'd been jotting down the same to-dos and it felt kind of stupid while doing it.

But reading this will pass over and over and over again was slightly calming. Reminding myself that I needed to be kind to myself and stay connected felt like bullshit at times but it rang through my head now. And now I couldn't get it out, it was in rotation, putting affirmations in even if the bad thoughts didn't cycle out as fast.

And maybe I started rewriting that as my dad starter to talk again. Maybe I was trying to program it in, trying to remind myself to remain open cause I hadn't shut down yet.

My dad was still talking but his words tested the waters and he didn't seem to feel completely confident in what he was saying- it didn't really apply but the sentiment was nice. "Sometimes the best way... to hold onto people is to not."

"Yeah." I offered an opening, coughed out a weak laugh and I tried not to think about the fact that now that I was thinking about it again, I could still feel my chest hurting, maybe this feeling never did go away. "It still hurts."

That was enough, it was obvious, it made sense. He would leave it at that, I was sure and then I wouldn't have to think any further about it.

Allow yourself to feel pain.

"I know." And I thought that would be the end of his advice.

He'd never really been good at motivational speeches, and... frankly, with everything being so... complicated, he never really knew what to say to me anymore.  Whenever we had a chance to sit down together and talk about anything too depressing, it never dragged on longer than needed.

It was too often full of awkward silence, me gnawing on my bottom lip to make sitting there bearable while he tried to make sense of such complexity in short words. He really wasn't good with the deeper stuff, neither was my mother so growing up, I'd never been good at communication.

I often lacked the ability to explain myself so much so that I gave up when things got too difficult, brushed it off. As a result, I wasn't very good at asking questions that warranted difficult responses or being on the opposite side of that.

And maybe realizing that rekindling my old relationship wouldn't happen anytime soon, and letting Paul go was the reason for all this unwarranted self reflection. I hated how pretentious my own thinking and emotional evaluating sounded to myself.

God, even my thoughts these days felt so goddamn psychotherapeutic.

But my dad was sitting across from me, eyes on mine and he bit the inside of his cheek silently.

Breathing softly, he blinked a few times to break the intense stare and then continued.

"I'm really proud of you, Jules." He'd tacked on after a while, it soft. As normal, he always looked like he wanted to say something that would help. This time, where I expected him to leave, he stayed still. He continued, making sure to emphasize what we both knew was true. "I'm not the best at this... stuff, any of it."

That much was obvious but he looked upset, as if he were angry with himself. Brows knitting together, he stumbled on his words but nodded as if to encourage himself. Rubbing his palms together, he sighed before wiping them on his pants. "And I-I know that I'm not and I'm sorry, I should be better."

"Dad-"

My interruption, in normal circumstances, would've halted him. I'd brush off his concerns with reassurances that we both wouldn't be convinced by.

He shook his head then, raking a hand through inky hair, pushing it back. "Just listen for a second, okay?"

"I should've tried harder to stay in contact with you when you moved out."

He was playing with his engagement ring now and I watched the tension in his bones disperse.

And when he bit his lip then, he tilted his head also but he still didn't look up at me and I wasn't sure if the lack of eye contact was more comforting to him or me. "But you were seventeen, you know? And-and I thought that you'd be at Calum's for a few days while everything settled and then you'd come back."

Looking up, I could see the remorse in his eyes and I knew it was genuine. "But you didn't," his shoulders slumped, "and you didn't answer my calls so I asked Jade to check on you and she said you were okay so..."

He'd lost his voice somewhere throughout that, offering an uncomfortable smile and I nodded. Trying to make it easier for him, I forced a small smile. "I was."

"I know that, it was good for you to- to get to know Paul."

My smile slipped at his name and I fought to keep it from hitting me so fast. He was digging up past feelings and normally, I'd close off. Allow yourself to feel pain. We had to talk about it eventually, there was too much resentment that I'd hidden from myself, it was pouring out in waves whenever the subject of his new marriage was brought up.

And that wasn't fair, bottling up my feelings until it came out as spite directed at people who didnt deserve it. Andria and Kenan didn't deserve my abrasiveness and again, Jade was right.

And he was having a hard time with that, I knew it, it was easy to see when he was apologizing and his voice was cracking. "During the divorce, I..." And then as if he stopped overthinking, he just talked to me, he breathed out a shaky breath and cleared his throat. "I stopped doing things that a man should do for his family. And I stopped being the father that you and Jade needed."

I didn't expect that.

"I should've reminded you that none of it was your fault. None of it. I should've said that more."

He looked like he'd been thinking this for a while, that proven true when he continued. "And things-" hand through his hair again, he rested his elbows on his knees and sat on the edge of the seat, "things are a little bit... harder for you- a-alot harder sometimes and it took me too long to get that."

"I think that I'm too..." he only talked with his hands when he was nervous and something about his worry eased me a bit. "I think that I-I... I watched you grow up from the outside. You were always a private teenager, you know? And you stopped asking me to come to your games and we stopped doing a lot of things together, and I should've saw it coming, I should've checked in on you more."

I tried not to be offended by that, tried to see it from his point of view for a second and maybe I'd always been sad. I knew it wasn't a new feeling, it was something that rarely rose up but that doesn't mean that it didn't exist. I'd never really been an outgoing person.

I'd never really been a happy person and maybe that was why I latched onto Calum so much.

And I placed so much of my own self importance in my relationships with other people that the rejection or loss of those relationships hit me too hard.

"I didn't think you wanted to come." They were always busy whether it was work or church, it just never felt right to ask. We'd stopped doing birthday celebrations, why would they want to come to my games?

"Of course I did."

"She didn't." Extracurriculars were a waste of time for her. "And you had cases and Jade and-"

"That's not an excuse. I should have made time."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried not to cry. He was furrowing his brows now, head shaking and cutting me off. "Not knowing what to do isn't an excuse to not do anything. I screwed up a lot but I-I want us to have a stronger relationship."

We were pretty close, closer than a lot of people were. Danny hadn't called his dad in years, Calum's dad had run away from his family to finish the first one he had and Jade had never been close to our mom.

But my dad always tried and hearing that he knew he could try more, it broke down a wall I didn't know I was holding up. "How'd you get over her?"

He didn't expect that, really, I didn't either. But he'd been through heartache and he was better now, it gave me some kind of hope that this feeling wouldn't last forever.

"What?"

"You were in love, right?" And when he nodded, I reiterated my question. "How did you- you know? Get past it?"

He took a second, confusion on his face and before speaking, he bit his lip again."Uh... I guess I- I guess I just realized that a lot of the reasons I married her just didn't make sense to me anymore."

It sounded like a question and I could tell he'd never thought of this before. Maybe that was what I wanted, I wanted to know how he'd gotten through it because it had been so long and I still couldn't say I was over Paul.

And he'd never talked about it, we never talked about it so it just felt like everything I'd seen my entire life was a lie. It felt like the time it took for him to decide to leave her was shoved back in my face if he was so easily able to move on.

Maybe my resentment was because they'd been together for 20 years, because he fell apart but was so easily able to get it together when it came to loving Andria but we didn't talk.

He was smiling despite the words leaving his mouth. "She was my first love and she was safe, you know, secure. I asked her father if I could date her and then I asked him if- if I could marry her and we settled."

"It made sense." He shrugged. "I think sometimes we fall in love with the idea of someone."

I'd heard that before; I'd felt that before. Calum wasn't the same boy I'd fallen in love with when I told him and I held onto the image of him even when he'd shown me otherwise. And my dad did the same.

"Realizing that a lot of it was just contentment, and-and convenience, cause we had kids and a mortgage and..." He stopped short, taking a second to collect his thoughts before he spoke more sternly and more resolved. "I didn't know who I was or what I wanted so when I found that, I guess it helped."

You need to figure out who you are without being in a relationship. "I guess we're more similar than I thought."

Instantly, he shook his head, a laugh falling through his lips and he was grinning. "You're so much more than me."

That warmed me. The sentiment shocked me, spilling through my chest and I could feel myself smiling. I didn't know what I needed to hear but just that was enough.

"And you're more than what Paul makes you and you're more than this-this thing that haunts you, you know that right? The fact that you got so low and got right back up and kept going and I can- God." He didn't expect me to respond, just reassured me and that was more than enough. His words were a whisper and I was sure that if I opened my eyes, he'd be crying.

"You're so fucking strong. You're way stronger than me, J."

But worry still caught in my throat and I was sniffling. It hit me then and I breathed out a short laugh, looking down. I didn't talk about the attempt, I hated just how teetering around the subject hurt him, I just changed the subject because it was easier.

For both of us. "I just don't think I'm ever gonna be that happy again." I could feel myself crying then, it finally hurting the way it was supposed to. I tried to clear my mind and ever since the talk with Wren, I'd pushed all thoughts of Danny finding me unsuccessful. The pills, the alcohol, the hitting rock bottom.

Thoughts of my list, I'd pushed it away. Thinking about it was just too much.

And I missed him again.

"If you wanna take some time off, that's okay too." He'd leant forward at some point and his hand was on my shoulder urging me to look up. Respectfully, I did. And the authority in his gaze held me together. "But this feeling right now," he was poking in my chest, "it isn't gonna be here forever."

I was trying to breathe through tears, it coming out shaky and harsh and I went to wipe them away, resting my head in my hands again.

My dad let go then. "You just gotta feel it, don't stop yourself from feeling the bad cause it makes the good that much better." And he never knew what to say but somehow always knew what I needed to hear.

He let that hang in the air for a little, let it simmer. We were sitting in my room and I let it pass through. I sat there and I finally allowed myself to cry, pulling myself together and falling apart again.

And when it calmed and all that was left were wet sleeves and blotchy cheeks, I'd turned to flick on the TV, letting sport's highlights fill the silence. He was grateful, turning towards the action and I tried to relax more.

Let it pass, it'll pass.

: : :

"I was previously diagnosed with atypical depression -um- but I-I have major depression disorder which kinda sucks even more." And she knew that, it was on my file, I'd already been there a few times and Dr. Thorpe had signed off on my new prescription.

She knew perfectly well what disorders I had.

Still, I knew that if I stopped talking, I wouldn't start again so I figured that just letting it all out was easier. "I mean, I kinda expected it." Everyone probably did, that damn lady at the clinic probably was well aware. "I wasn't in a good place for a while, a few months actually."

I'm better now.

I tried to avoid her gaze, it kind yet unrelenting and instead kept my eyes on my own hands.

Brushing my thumb over the tick marks in my palms, I let out a shaky sigh, balling my fists gently, my sweater falling to cover my hands. It was slightly chilly and my heart was starting to race.

"And what do you think was the cause of that?"

That was a stupid question, all of it was so fucking stupid all of a sudden. How the hell was I supposed to know why my depression had decided to stick around and make me miserable?

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that?" I snapped. My heart was beating faster now and I screwed my eyes shut to keep myself calm. It was so easy to lash out, anger was so stupidly frequent for me now and I hated it cause it always made everyone around me so fucking uncomfortable.

Sighing out my exhale, I muttered a small, "Sorry."

"That's alright. It's okay to be angry about it all, it's a lot."

"Yeah."

As if testing the waters, she pried more personally and I fought the recoil. "You stopped taking your medication." I knew it would come up sooner than later. "Why?"

She gave me time though, sat there silently just looking at me. Taking in body language, gaging my insecurities like she always did. I tried not to move too much.

And I was still sheepish, still apologetic for lashing out on her. Still angry with myself and I realized how all this anger could build up and that was exactly how I spiraled in the first place.

So I was honest, for once.

"I don't like how they make me feel."

Kinda hate how not taking them makes me feel too. "Uh- I'd just broken up with my boyfriend and we were together for almost three years so it kind of hurt... a lot."

Shaking my head, I tried not to think of him again, told myself that I was more than just that breakup. I'd been on edge for years, on the brink of a breakdown and I'd snapped.

It was precedented, set in stone way before my heart broke.

"And I'd already had problems taking my meds before so..."

I remembered that the pain was so overwhelming when he didn't take me back that it overwhelmed me, the heartbreak was sitting on top of my chest for so long that I eventually just stopped taking my meds everyday.

Because it was my fault, our breakup was my fault and I couldn't forget it. Because if he just left me then that was one thing but the fact that I'd pushed him away for so long, I'd dumped him, I'd hurt him so much.

And he stuck around until I made him reach his breaking point, that was what fucked me up and even if we'd resolved it, I still had unresolved feelings about it.

It was still hard to forgive myself when I thought it over again and I hated therapy for that reason. I hated drudging up feelings I should've been past. I hated how concerned Dr. Thorpe looked when she was getting paid to care.

That anger, that hate was precisely the reason I kept talking because if I stopped, it would consume me again.

"And I-uh- I wasn't feeling well; I'm still not entirely okay."

She nodded, sitting up and offering a smile and she went to stand, moving towards the thermostat. I didn't realize I'd started to hug myself. "Are you cold? It's freezing in here."

When I nodded, she went to adjust it, still talking and maybe her being preoccupied helped. "Last week we talked about your dad getting remarried." She was twisting a dial on the wall and I found myself nodding, sitting back in the seat I was in and I'd relaxed a bit.

She'd given me time to mull that over, only asking another question when she was back in her seat. "Do you think that has something to do with it."

That was easy and I was shaking my head. No. "I keep telling myself that I'm mad because he just met this woman but... I'm not."

It was a lot of thinking and overthinking and rethinking when our conversation about love had stuck in my head that night. Most of my anger wasn't even in relation to the wedding, it was towards him for being happy again.

It wasn't fair for me to be jealous of him, I knew it and when that kept me up, I tried to find reasoning for it.

"That's not the case?"

It wasn't. I wasn't mad at Andria, I wasn't mad at my father."I wanna hate her."

I didn't know who exactly I was talking about at first but I concluded both. I wanted to hate Andria for making herself at home in a place I hadn't felt at home in in years... I wanted to hate my mother... "B-because she left. I want to hate her because she... hates me."

Because she made me hate myself.

"Do you think that's true?"

"I've always..." not liked myself. "I think that when she left, it made it easier to hate myself."

"Why is that?"

I don't know.

She was looking at the journal I'd placed on the table, the one my dad found, only him and Jade had seen what was inside, truly read through a page or two to see how fucked up my head was.

Dr. Thorpe hadn't asked to open it yet, I wasn't sure why. She simply made an observation. "You do a lot of self reflection..."

"Yeah, I write."

"Does it help?" No. "It doesn't, does it?"

"It did."

"...But..."

Then it didn't. "I dwell too much on everything."

I hated those moments of silence. Mid-session, she's getting quiet, and the emptiness in the room would be too much to handle, the silence would be so loud that I'd keep talking just to fill it. She wouldn't even be looking at me but I could feel the dissection.

I tried not to cry. I didn't want to think about it again, just recalling that conversation, although I was grateful for it, it always exhausted me.

"My-my boyfriend— ex— he-um-he came to talk a few days ago. He told me that I-I have to forgive myself."

"Why can't you?"

"Because I lost him." I shrugged. She said nothing. "Cause-cause I, cause I act like I'm the only one who messed up but he did too."

Silence again, she wanted me to form my own opinion of why I couldn't let him go and I didn't have much. "Cause he's the only person that..."

"That loved you?"

"That knew me." Cause I knew my dad loved me, and I knew Jade did. But I also knew how conditional love actually was.

Paul had seen me at my lowest, he'd been there through so much of my fucking trauma... he saw me how I wanted to see myself and I wasn't ready to let go of that. "I didn't wanna let him go cause he knew who I was... a-and I don't."

A/N:

Thank you guys for sticking with me even through my writer's block and through all the sadness. I think that this is the last Julian-centered chapter. I was aiming for 25 and 25 for the next part to make it even but it just felt right to end it here.

I'm so excited for you guys to see the next set of chapters cause you'll finally get something other than tears. (Sorry, I really like to sob over a keyboard)

Just a reminder that I do accept covers cause these ones are looking a bit dated. Oh and for you poly-loving babes, Hurricane Jones is back, tease.

Until next time, loves. ciao.

Updated: Tuesday, December 3rd.

What's your favorite quote? Whether it be a movie or a book or a poem or a song? Just what quote do you remind yourself of consistently? Mine is a Rudy Fransisco quote "I am made of all the things the world couldn't take from me."