𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪-𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

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After lunch, I have therapy. Medda drops me pfft the office and drives away once I'm inside. My fingers drum on the notebook that my therapist has me write in. It's supposed to keep track of my feelings or something. I check the clock, which reads 2:21. My appointment is at 2:30. I take the chew stim that I bought and bring it to my mouth. No one seems to care. I mean, we're all mentally unstable here, so....

A few minutes later, I get called in. Taking the chew stim out of my mouth, I walk down the short hallway to my therapists office.

"Welcome, Antonio." She smiles as I walk in. I nod in response and sit down on the couch, which always smelled like lavender for some reason. Probably to calm the patients. If that's the case, it doesn't work. At least not on me. "Did your mom show you the letter about testosterone?" I can't hold back the smile that creeps on my face as I nod. "Good! I'm sure that going on T will help your mental health. Do you have your notebook with you?" Handing over the notebook to her, my hands move to my fidget cube. I study her face as she reads what I wrote.

"You never told me you were dating someone!" She says joyfully. "How recent?"

"Tuesday." I respond.

"I'm so happy for you!" I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or not.

~time skip cuz i have no clue how therapy works~

Once I'm back in the car, I pull out my phone and am greeted to a shit ton of notifications. I've only been gone for an hour, what the hell? I try my best to read over everything, but I eventually give up and put my phone back down. My head starts to throb. I have no clue why.

𝔹𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕣𝕤Where stories live. Discover now