Chapter One : What is Your Goal?
"How have you been feeling today, Max?"
"Since it's still in the morning time, I haven't had the time to process those feelings yet."
Every other week, she asks generally the same things. I almost feel fed up with the repetitive feelings to the point to yell at her, but I don't. I breathe deeply, starting to mess with my fingers, getting a little shifty. Nora looks at me, leans back and starts writing again in her book of secrecy. At least, it's secret from me. "How do you feel about starting a program?" She asks. I look away. A program? Do I look like I have an addiction?
"It's not what you think. It's a program, but it's one that's just between us. I think it's about time we begin to go on the journey to solving your problems." She states, crossing her legs. Her inquisitive look doesn't drift off from my face, making me more uncomfortable. I shrug. I want to get better, I do. Liberating myself from this office forever would be amazing. I'd know how to get through my issues better. Healthier. Pushing people away when I don't even mean to. Sometimes, I think I do it to myself just to sabotage my own progress.
"Okay, what do you have in mind?"
"Let's start with a goal. You hardly leave your apartment, from what you tell me. Maybe start getting out more, taking walks, perhaps?"
Going outside? For a walk? Disgusting. "A walk as in, out of my home?"
"Yes! Outside, where the sun is. There are more places than just your living room. If you're worried about not being able to paint or draw, you could always find a park or café to go to. That's also a way to meet people if you are up to it." Nora starts smiling at me, then putting her notebook on the table and standing up.
" Max, you're a beautiful girl, people will naturally come to you. The thing is, take it slow. Maybe rehearse conversations beforehand so you aren't blindsided. You can do this." I step out of her office, feeling a little hopeful that I won't be let down this time.
Walking through my front door, I walk right back into my mostly dark apartment. Mostly, because in the back corner of my living room stands an easel and other art supplies I've managed to station there. I sit down, thinking about where I could go, what I could say or who I could meet. It all makes me feel overwhelmed. I stare at the ceiling almost dozing off, but catching myself. Then walking to the back, tying my hair, that needs to be washed, into a pony tail. Time to start painting.
Author's Note
Hello again, it's definitely been a while. I think it's a lil known that I've got a problem with consistency, but maybe that'll change? Idk. I've graduated highschool, turned 19 and already feel like my life's somehow passing me by. Ive also went through another break up from a year long relationship last Wednesday, which is another thing that prompted me to pick writing back up.
I'll hit you with a little secret, some things in the story are from my personal experience ( I wont say which ones~ ooooh the mystery) I'm also sorry about how short this is. This is the shortest ive ever done I think.
Warning:
The following chapters are going to be 1,500+ words each, so if you don't like long stories like that, this may not be for you ;-; which makes me sad
See you next time
~Kyra
