Sorry I didn't get to update yesterday. I was working on a new chapter for Shaded In and posted that instead. So because of that, I'm posting this earlier than usual. :)

Violet's Pov:

I sat on my bed with my special journal sitting in my lap. It was close to ten-thirty, but that wasn't a major concern to me at the moment. I'd go to sleep later. I promised Clem I'd try to start sleeping at home again. Having Woody with me was helping, but I couldn't promise anything. Sometimes I would manage a few hours, but there were the nights where I'd just stare up at the ceiling in the dark so it was better if I just stayed up and wrote.

Tonight was different though, I wasn't sleeping because I was afraid, just the opposite actually. My mind was filled with thoughts of Clementine. Of all the things she's done for me. I know it doesn't seem like she's done that much, but to me it was different. Clem had truly been my light in the darkness. That wish I'd been hoping for in the stars. She was my everything.

Whenever I was with her it felt like I was home. Much more than this place ever did. Having Clementine with me always made things better no matter what situation I was in. Like when she saved me from Minerva after Louis blew my secret, she was there when I had passed out, she helped me when I was sick in the car, she helped me to sleep when I was too afraid to be alone, and yeah, she may have read something personal that I wrote but she's already gone above and beyond for me.

I started thinking about everything that she had done for me and an idea started to form in my head. I wanted to write her something like she did for me when she was apologizing for reading through my things. And that's when it hit me. My pencil flew across the page and before I knew it I had over a paragraph of words in under ten minutes.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. I end up staring at nothing because I can't sleep at night. I can't make it stop when I think too much. What do I do when I'm falling apart? No one would want to be in my shoes right now.

I'm always an expert at complicating things. That's how I'm wired, believe me, it's no fun. But you make a war seem like such an easy thing. You kiss me and my arguments come undone. Down in the trenches, you are my white flag. You make me surrender and I want you here so bad. I'm so lucky to have someone like you in my life. That's why...

I don't reach for the bottle of whiskey. No, you won't see me popping the pills. Because if I want the pain to go away, in a second, make it fade, you're the only thing that will.

You make it all better. You make me feel at home. You're my medicine."

I stopped writing and re-read what I had written. It kind of sounded better in my head than it does on paper. It was sweet, sure, but I felt like it wasn't the right thing to say to Clem.

I sighed frustrated and put my head in my hands. I couldn't gove this to her. It sounds weird to refer to her like that. Sure it may be true in a sense, but I don't know if Clem would see it that way. It was a metaphor of course, but a true one at that. I just feel like it'd be really awkward to give something like this to her. It seems like everything I've been writing lately isn't good enough. Which is probably why I haven't written her a story yet.

I closed my book and laid back defeated as I stared up at the ceiling. What was wrong with me? Everything used to be easy, now it was like dragging nails across a chalkboard whenever I tried to write for her. Was I always just a terrible writer? Probably. Was I lacking in confidence when it came to showing Clem my work? Yes. But that was no excuse for my lack of talent.

I turned my head and stared out my window seeing the stars come into view. I traced a shape with my mind, watching the imaginary lines fall into place to give the image an outline. I looked at it for a minute and soon I realized that if I rearranged the lines I could turn it into something different. Hmm? Turn it into something else?

I quickly pushed myself up and reopened my notebook to the same page I had been writing on. If I couldn't use the previous words I could change them to make sense in a way Clem would understand. But...what was that way?

I hated this. Why couldn't I just tell her how I feel? Why was it so hard all of a sudden?

I sighed to myself and got up off my bed. I needed some air.

So I grabbed my red hoodie and threw it on, then I put my journal in a drawstring backpack and slipped that on as well, then lastly I grabbed Woody and climbed out my window.

I followed my usual path to the open field that I liked to visit. I already felt much better being outside in the cool night air. It was a bit weird carrying the rabbit with me, but I figured he could use some time outside as well. That and I'm afraid to leave him alone at home.

I know my door is locked, but I get huge anxiety when I think about leaving Woody alone in the house with my dad. So even if I don't really need him in a situation, I take him with me almost everywhere I go. Which I think he tends to enjoy anyway. It beats sitting alone in a cage all day.

I walked for about a half-hour along the crumbling roads I knew so well and found myself at the field. There was this one large tree there that stood a few yards away from the road with branches sticking out over a grassy terrace.

So I walked down the little slope and sat down with my back against the tree trunk. I set Woody next to me and watched him for a minute. He hopped around for a few minutes getting used to his surroundings, but he never went farther than a few feet from my side. Then he found this patch of clover in the grass and started to nibble on that. I smiled knowing that he was content for the time being and took out my journal from earlier and opened it back up to the previous page.

I stared up at the sky and looked for anything new that I could make out in the stars. Anything to help me with my current dilemma, but there was nothing. I didn't feel inspired like I usually did like something was holding me back. I thought coming out here was going to help, but I honestly kind of feel more frustrated.

I stared at the empty pages of my journal. Why was it so hard to express how I feel? I sometimes wish I could just tell Clem how I feel instead of writing it all down. I know some people think it's all cute and what not to write things down for someone special in their life or leave them little notes. But I guess it's different when I constantly write everything down. I feel like if I actually said it, then it would mean more since I've never actually held a conversation with her.

I wanted to, there are times I've wanted to say things to her so badly, but the words never come. I can't even talk to Sophie and Louis anymore. There aren't any conversations or little comments like there used to be. No, this time...I-I think my voice is gone for good.

And it hurts. God, it hurts so much to not be able to tell her how I feel. I'm falling apart as I feel tears come to my eyes.

I feel really disappointed in myself. I felt like I failed because... I failed myself. I failed to meet my own expectations and that makes me feel like I let everyone down, especially Clem.

I know I'm not handling this well, but I can't just turn this feeling off and I can't write about it either. I can't express anything and it sucks to have all of these pent up emotions. I have an outlet, but sometimes there's only so much that writing can do for me. It also doesn't help that everything I write just seems terrible. All I can do is basically sit here and cry because there isn't any other way to feel.

I pull Woody close to my chest and I just let the tears fall. I don't understand what's wrong with me. Am I just overwhelmed after everything I went through or have I just set too high of an expectation for myself? I look at everyone else and it's all so easy for them to express how they feel. But I don't have that kind of confidence, I don't even have a voice and I always feel like the odd one out.

I really wish Clem was here right now. She'd know what to say to me and even if she didn't, just knowing that she's there makes me feel ten times better. She really is my medicine. That still sounds weird when I say it, well... think it.

I rubbed some tears from my eyes and looked down at what I had written before. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. After all, if anyone was going to understand what I meant it was Clementine. I needed to show her that I really do trust her and being able to show her this was a step in that direction.

I sighed, letting myself calm down. I let go of Woody again and pulled out my phone. I opened up my messaging app and found Clem's contact.

Violet: I love you.

Clem: Aw, Vi, I love you too.

Violet: ...and I'm sorry

Clem: For what babe?

I felt the tears begin to fall again as I typed the next message.

Violet: Not being able to say it.

I was hesitant to look at her next reply, afraid of what I might see. But when I checked the message tears fell for a whole different reason. I smiled because it's exactly what I needed to hear.

Clem: Violet, you don't have to be sorry. I don't care if you can't say it. I love you for who you are inside. It doesn't matter if you can talk or not, because you already show me how much you love me in so many other ways.

...

Clem: Whether you start talking tomorrow, or I never hear your voice again I'll still love you. I'm so lucky to have someone as special as you in my life. I love you Violet and that will never change.

I wiped the tears from my eyes before I typed out my last response.

Violet: I love you too. Thank you.

Clem: Of course, Vi.

I was really touched that she thought that. I don't know why I thought she wouldn't understand. And that's why she was perfect. No matter how much I fell down, Clem was always there to bring me back up. She makes everything better, she makes me feel home, and if I want the pain to go away, in a second, make it fade, she's the only thing that will. She's my medicine.

"Still sounds weird."

But that was okay because I knew she would understand what I was trying to say.

In all honesty, everything that just happened was legit what I had described in my writing. But that just meant it was all the more true. You know, sometimes I don't know if my writing takes on the characteristics of me or if I take on the characteristics of my writing, but the thought got me to laugh.

I smiled to myself because I finally felt all of the tension melt away. I felt like my mind could finally rest. That was another thing I could use. I felt both emotionally and physically drained and I was dreading the long walk back to my house. But I wasn't about to spend the night out here in the grass, for once I was actually looking forward to falling asleep in my bed. So I threw everything back in my bag, grabbed Woody, and started the long trek back.

It even felt easier to breathe; no longer having something bearing down on my chest constricting me. I felt a lot better now that I didn't feel like I needed to prove anything. It was a huge weight off my shoulders and it made the walk back a lot easier to deal with.

Once home I climbed back through my window and I was happy to find everything was the way I left it. I checked my clock that read twelve eighteen, that wasn't too bad. I put Woody away and closed the window. Then taking off my glasses, I slipped under the covers and turned off my lamp. And for the first time in forever, I fell asleep within the first five minutes.