therapy

» self

"How are you feeling?"

"Sad but a little happy. I'm glad that you're coming with me. I could use a friend." I wrapped my arms around her frame, giving her a quick hug. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I'm sorry for yesterday, I was just out of it and didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," I reassured her, cutting her off with a wavering smile. "Do you think that this will help?"

"It helped me. And still is."

We looked up at the building; a comfy-looking building with green flowers dangling off the sides. "Time to put an end to these wild sorrows. They're controlling everything in my life, and I want it to stop. I want to be not just a little happy. A lot, instead."

"You deserve to be happy, okay?" She opened up the door and after a few steps in, winding through one door and staircases, we found a group of teenagers and one young woman, throwing around emotions as if they were grenades.

Everyone's heads turned to us as tiny smiles were painted across their lips. One by one, we were greeted with a whisper of hi, hello, please sit down.

A young boy with ruffled up hair spoke up, with a squeaky voice and a shaking mouth. "My name is Adam and I think that there is a moment in life where everyone has experienced bullying, tormented until our own bones give up on us. Till they can no longer support us because the words drilled into them are leaving holes behind. Some of us have so many holes that—are we even considered to be human anymore? We've been pushed around and told that the world would be better off if our existence was erased from history. Our marks on this tainted world don't matter. Yet they do. I've come to realize that we are human. We are no different than anyone else in this world. Yes, our cultures and features are different, but don't we all have a heart? An organ that pumps blood and oxygen throughout our body so we can survive. It's counting on us to keep on going, so it can too. I'm fighting for myself, not for others. And I hope all of you can learn to do that too."