Caim

- Chapter 36 -

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Pretty chill chapter, hence the song

Aurélia

"Why do I always have to talk to them?" I groan, complaining to Silas. "You don't, it was a question. I'll gladly handle him myself if you don't want to," he smirks at me playfully.

"Yeah that would be great, thanks." I pat him on the back making my way out of the kitchen. "Suit yourself, I'll be back, love you," he grabs my hand and pulls me around for a kiss.

"Love you too, have fun," I say before heading back upstairs to my room. I calm myself down, taking some deep breaths before picking up my Laptop.

I signed myself up for an online therapist. It was an impulsive move, something I did after my last, moment. Honestly, I'm glad I did it. I feel like this will be good for me, right now I'm just experimenting though.

The only person who knows is Camilla, she talked the Paula, the therapist before hand to give her a bit of background info that I might not have thought about.

"Hello Aurélia," She smiles through the screen. "Hi," I say nervously. "I know how intimidating it can be to start therapy, but I want you to know this is a safe space for you to share whatever you'd like," she kindly articulated.

"Okay, thanks. I don't really know where to start," I tell her honestly. "That's fine, maybe just tell me what made you decide to get into therapy?" She encourages.

"Well, it was one night after I'd seen someone, I was feeling a lot of stress and anxiety, but also anger and sadness. I tried to ignore it and just go about painting, which is something I do a lot, but as I progressed the feelings kind of took over and I fell into a state of panic." I describe the last night a was feeling off.

"I understand, seeing someone who negatively affected us in the past can bring back a lot of negative emotions, even ones we thought had pasted," I observe her jotting down some things.

"The painting, did you finish it?" She inquires. "Yes, I don't have it with me though," I frowned. "That's okay, describe it to me," she's asks.

I think about how I said it to myself last, what I'd interpreted the painting as. "It's a person trapped. I don't really know what's trapping it. It's clawing at whatever is trapping it. The thing doesn't care. It's tightening its grip. It's moving in, closer and closer and it's not resisting." I describe it while visualizing the painting in my mind.

"Aurélia, what is trapping the person?" She pushes farther for the full answer. "I don't know," I say while my eyes stay closed.

"Yes you do, tell me." She asks again. "It's," I think about it, I do know I've known for a while. "It's thoughts, she's trapped by her own mind," I confess.

"She. That's a woman. Is that woman you?" She elaborates. "That's not me," I protest. "Are you sure?" She basically argues.

"Well, maybe it is. They don't face a face. They are just a silhouette," I give her more detail. "Aurélia, deep down you do know. Tell me who the woman is," she insists.

"It's, she's me. That's me. I feel like that. I feel trapped by my thoughts, I feel strangled by my mind. Those are my thoughts," I admit.

"How does the painting make you feel?" She presses. "I, it makes me feel angry, it gives me anxiety to see because I don't want to be like that, I don't want that to be me," I open up.