Yo yo!

So this is going to be the second to last actual story chapter, as this story will have 10 weeks. I'm also planning on doing an epilogue and a section of notes I wrote up regarding Hiccup's headcanon. I know this story could go on longer but here's the thing; if it carried on past here, it would literally never end, and it would get boring and I would get bored. I'm ending it at the next chapter because I'm reaching the point where I have to figure out where to go next. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter and nobody likes a dead-fic. If there's one thing I have learnt, its decide an ending first. xD.

Thank you again for the reviews and everything! Hope you all had a good week, and enjoy! :)

Week Nine

I was feeling pretty good about myself for the most of this week until Tuesday happened. Astrid just left. She didn't tell anyone she was getting discharged and apparently didn't want the fuss of us throwing her a party; I just came downstairs to her packing her bags up on the table. She gave me a sad smile, looked around to make sure nobody was around and gave me a kiss on the cheek before thrusting her phone number on a scrap of paper in my hand. It was over. She was gone.

It's stupid. I knew it was coming, she said they were letting her out weeks ago, but I just didn't expect her to leave so soon. She left so triumphantly, hair tied up neatly as she walked away with someone who I assumed was her dad. I just kept wondering why she hadn't told me. Then I thought about David and the counselling and his digging, and paranoia hit me like a train.

He knew that I had a thing for her, he straight up asked me and I straight up hesitated before answering. He made it quite clear relationships weren't allowed, and that my mental health wasn't stable enough to manage one. Or maybe he was just putting words into my mouth. How hard could it be? I might struggle with rejection but I deserve to be loved too. I deserve to have people around me who want the best for me. I deserve to have someone to hold me when I'm down. I miss any kind of physical interaction; as much as I don't like being touched and poked and prodded and beaten up, I want so badly for someone to hold me sometimes. I don't want to feel alone forever.

Astrid leaving made me realise how lonely I felt. David might be the person I speak to every day, and in the past few months I've relived every single distressing moment in my life that I care to remember, but I know that this is just his job, and he goes home to his wife and kids in his nice house. Mother hasn't bothered contacting me, and even though dad calls and our relationship is getting better, he essentially told me under no uncertain terms that I wouldn't be going home when I left here. He said it was something we all needed to sit down with the social worker and discuss. In the opinion of social services and mental health services, apparently, staying at home with dad put me at risk of relapse.

Heather and Dagur have been keeping an eye on me, trying to get me involved in their games and conversations. Nothing feels the same though. On Friday, David pointed out that I looked a little bit down and that I should maybe talk about it, but this was one thing I didn't want to discuss with him again as I felt as if he'd caused her to leave. Am I being irrational? Perhaps I am, but I don't want to take that risk.

I should be happy for her. She's better. She doesn't want to kill herself or starve herself anymore and that's a huge deal. She's going to go home to a family that loves her and to a school where she excels and everything will be hunky dory. She will find loads of new friends, who will be beautiful and popular. She will get the grades she needs because she's bright, and she will go to college and graduate in something complicated. She will be one of the winners of the world. They always push the inspiration thing here, telling us about all the successful people with mental health problems like us, and how we can be successes too. Our lives can be good.

I want to be inspired, and sometimes I feel that it won't be long before I'm out of here and living a new life. A big part of me hopes that it will be fine. I will leave, live somewhere new, go to school again and make friends and be someone. My tutors told me that, since I started having art therapy a few weeks ago, my concentration levels are so much higher, and my anxiety has virtually disappeared. They told me that I was clever, and my work was valued. Maybe when things at school improve and my health is stable, I can live with my dad again and we can get along again too like before. I feel guilty about how I treated my dad.

Another part of me is insidious. It's the part that tells me that my life will be a series of drink, drugs, prostitution, self-harm, mutilation, violence and pain. It's the part that tells me that I'll drop out of school, end up in and out of hospitals, end up on the streets with nobody and I'll die forgotten. The part of my brain tells me that it's the fate I deserve. Negative thoughts are not always easy to rationalise. Maybe it's a warning.

I called Astrid yesterday, and she sounded warm. It was only a short call as I don't have a phone right now, but being able to hear her voice made everything so much better. She told me about how she was going back to school next week, and that she was a bit nervous but looking forward to it. She said that the school had told everyone that she had been away to some kind of boarding school abroad to cover up the fact that she had been held at the clinic. I never thought about what people would say if they knew. It's not the most glamorous of places to be cooped up in. Everyone in my school knows I'm psycho anyway though, so even if I don't come back, my reputation will be there to haunt me forever.

Before I hung up, I asked Astrid if she would come and visit. She told me that it wasn't a good idea and that I needed to focus on getting better. She told me that she was there when I was out of the unit, but for now, I needed to focus on myself. She told me it would get better and to never forget that, and then the receiver went dead. I think after she said that to me, something turned in my brain. I have to make things right and better first.

You can't love someone until you love yourself. And that's exactly what I'm going to start doing.