Letters to Wyatt✔️

25

January 28, 2016.

Dear Wyatt,

I'm going to see a therapist today. My mom called me and told me that she set up an appointment for me and even paid for it. All I have to do is drag myself there.

I didn't ask her to do this, and I don't really think it will work, but I guess I'll do it anyways. There's a small chance that it might actually work, and I'm desperate for any closure I can get.

But I don't know if I'm ready to let you go. I'm ready for the ache and pain to be gone, but you? I don't want to forget about you like we never happened, and I'm afraid that's what will happen if this whole therapy thing works.

Because what if that's what it takes to move on? What if in order to find myself, I'll have to lose you, or at least what's left of you?

I don't know if I can handle it, but I'm going to the appointment anyways. Maybe if I can find some closure, I'll stop looking so needy that Matt feels like he has to force himself to walk with me every morning. Maybe Demeter will talk to me without pity in her eyes and my mom won't have to micromanage me because she's afraid that if she doesn't, I won't take care of myself.

Maybe I can be happy again.

But honestly, this whole therapy thing feels like a long shot. Supposedly time heals all things, and it's only made the pain of missing you worse. If not even time works, how is it possible that a therapist will?

But I guess this is what my life is reduced to: going to a shrink because I'm an emotional mess who cries nearly as often as I eat and walks a track obsessively every morning for a distraction like a 65 year old grandma who's trying to beat the world speed walking record.

Savannah

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