Dear Person.

Dear Person,
Everything changed once. Yet again it has...maybe for the better?


2. Diary entry 2-( Therapy, Issac, Mrs. Wells and Sleep.)

Dear Person,
    Today's my first session.  I start therapy for my insomnia.  I guess I could say I'm a little nervous but I don't think I have any cause to be.  But what if they finally decide I've got MAD, completely BONKERS.  What if grandma decides therapy isn't enough?  I'm afraid to speak my mind because I feel it's too dark in there.  Like all the lights have been switched off and I'm left wandering around stubbing my toe on legos and tripping over the ends of rugs.  I don't want someone else to see me the way I see myself, it's an unsettling idea.  Yet, I know that talking and letting everything that I've held in, out will be good.  I'll tell you about it later.


Grandma let me come on my own.  I haven't been able to drive alone for a while now.  It was therapy in it's own way.  The drive was about thirty minutes so I listened to music and cruised on the highway.  Focusing on the road brought my ragging emotions and thoughts to a steady halt.  I had time to sort things out and list off what I want to clear my conscience of.  When I got to the office I waited patiently for about forty five minutes almost an hour.  I read a magazine or two, I now know how to make my eyebrows more symmetrical.  I sat by myself for a while.  But, then a boy walked in.  He had a blue t-shirt and grey hoodie, blue jeans and white converse.  He had dark brown hair and eyes to match.  Obviously, he was not bad looking.  He had that wholesome look.  I usually keep to myself but, he struck up a conversation.  I sat in a chair next to the small window by the bookshelf in the corner of the room.  I like to be out of sight of the receptionist.  He sat next to me, smiling he said, "I like the window seat, sorry if it bothers you?" I smiled and shook my head, no.  We sat silent for a while, then he pulled out his I-pod.  I sat and starred at the trees, their about to start changing colors.  He plugged one headphone in, then began talking.  My attention was pulled immediately, "I get nervous talking to them." I smiled to reassure him I was listening.  He then began one of the best conversations I have had in a long time.  He asked if I get nervous immediately I agreed, shaking my head, yes.  We began talking about how it's hard to speak your mind when you feel you're being judged, though you know you're not.  I listened to him go on and on about his coping methods.  He said he was there because he couldn't sleep since he got into a car crash.  That hit a little close to home with me.  I told him, I had gotten into a car crash with my grandfather.  He said it was his fault that he crashed.  I didn't feel like telling him what happened to me, he was too cute to bore with my sob story.  I didn't want to hear it again's a movie on replay in my mind every night.  We had about twenty minutes left until our appointments.  He offered me an ear-bud, he let me listen to the music he uses to coupe with his stress.  He is in college, he used to play football but after the wreck he had to recover.  He lost his position on the team and began to focus more on school.  I was amazed that he was so open.  I was amazed that I let myself be as open and interactive as I was.  The music we listen to was actually very soothing and made me forget for a while.  It was a mix of solo piano and guitar, he even played Coldplay.  I hadn't listened to them since my freshman year of high school.  I enjoyed his company, soon enough it was time to leave.  His name was called then mine after his.  "Issac McCale, Josephine Melbourne"  He smiled at the receptionist and offered me a hand as I stood up.  I smiled shyly, "Well, it was a pleasure Miss. Melbourne." I shook his hand "Likewise Mr. McCale", "Call me Issac" He said ever so kindly.  As he began for the door, "Call me Jo-" I said a bit shocked.  As he closed the door he peaked out, "Jo." his smile light up the room. Blushing,  I entered the office of Mrs. Shelby Wells.  She looks to be about her mid-fifties.  She wore grey pants and a white button down shirt, that was tucked in.  Her hair was a bit white and blonde, gathered in a messy bun.  She wasn't wearing shoes, they sat next to her chair.  "Make yourself comfortable Miss. Melbourne" She had a light voice and smile.  I grinned and sat on the small couch.  I noticed the room was covered with house plants.  The window seals were covered, so was each corner with large tree like plants.   This calmed me a little, I enjoy plants, I keep a small garden behind our shed at home.  She began to ask me what I wanted to talk about.  I was clueless after talking to Issac.  Honestly, I just wanted to know more about him. ( 'Cause damn he was fine.)  Instead I collect my thoughts and began telling her about my dreams.  She isn't like any of the other therapist I've had, she doesn't just nod and sit with a notebook.  She asked me about my thoughts, about other things, she asked about my stance on marriage equality.  I felt at home, like I was talking to an old friend.  Luckily, she had the same open views towards the the world as I do.  Eventually, I was lying on the couch telling her everything.  I told her about the accident, how he let me drive and how the truck was swerving ahead of me.   She understood why I felt it was my fault.  She didn't give her two cents like everyone else.  While I talked, she listened, no note talking, just listening.  Once my time was up, I felt at ease.  I took a deep breath and felt cleansed, she said, "Well, Jo, I hope you feel a little better.  And, I hope that if you need me you'll come for a chat again.", I mused, "Thank you Mrs. Wells, I'll be sure to."  She walked me out and hugged me.  I'm not one for hugs but I didn't argue.  I thanked her again and went home.  It was a pretty good day.

Now, I just want to sleep.  I don't have to wish for good dreams,  after the wonderful encounters I had today...I think I'll sleep just fine.  I'm excited and exhausted.  Thank god for that...


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