Daniel > Recent Status Updates

Before I think too hard about it, I send him the words, "won’t ever stop", and a blue heart. This is the only colored heart I can think to send him. Even though I like all colors, blue is my favorite. I actually write the word, "favorite", and send that too. I’ve never even considered giving the blue heart to anyone before. It was always kind of mine, the heart that describes me.

Oh.

And I’ve sent it to him.

All I can write that doesn’t feel wrong is, "my friend, my really close friend, mine."

I don’t text the words to Bruno, but to Noah.

I hear the little ping his phone makes. I hear him suck in a soft breath. I can’t even put my headphones on. They’re in my bag. My bag is in the other room, so I curl up under the desk, my eyes leaking into the carpet, my hands pressed over my ears and I get very, very small.

Biting his lip harder, Noah looks down at his hand. When he looks back up, his eyes are shiny, like they’re covered in glass. He blinks, and so many tears spill down his cheeks, I can’t count them all. My own eyes start to feel hot and I don’t like it. I don’t like any of it. Crying is awful. Too many big feelings swell and swirl inside me and I sway unsteadily.

Noah needs help. I don’t know how to help him.

There has been a big problem with the drains so school doesn’t start again until the second Thursday in January. Two days of school before a weekend is how all school weeks should be. It makes sense that if I have to do two days at school, then I need two days off to recover. School would be a lot more deal-able with that way. I would still wish that it was July and school was over for six point five weeks.

He texts me back. "Just to be really, really clear, it’s talking to you that’s making me happy right now. And btw I feel like this every time we talk."
My heart thumps uncomfortably. I’m not sure how to have a conversation with someone when I feel like this. Like chaos is growing inside me. Like I’m full of something new and unexplored. Like I want to fill my phone screen with pictures of stars and explosions.

Ngl ...
I think I broke my brain! 😣

“She wouldn’t let him finish. It’s like she just stole the whole conversation away from us.”

“It’s convoluted”.

I looked up at him impatiently. “What?”

“Stolen conversation,” he said proudly. “Convo-looted.”

I stared at him and blinked. “Please get out of my office.”

OMG ... LMAO!!!

“Well I’m going to save everyone.”

I gave him an encouraging nod. It was touching, if not a bit unsettling.

With a fire burning in his eyes, he turned to me and spoke again: “They’ll call me Dr. Harper.”

A shiver coursed through my body, even though it was the middle of summer. I know it sounds strange, but I got the uncanny feeling that I had accidentally created a hero.

Or a monster.

For now, all you need to know is that he is a good human being. You do not need to worry about him. He’s clumsy, but he’s loyal and he has a heart of gold. He stayed with me through more than one hundred clients – from Patient #114 to #220. And I don’t like to talk about Patient #220.

What a mindfuck! 🤯
So ashamed that I'm
thoroughly enjoying this! 😳

Well ...
not *too* ashamed. 😏

The problem is, my patients have a habit of dying.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the common denominator. Or maybe that’s just the cost of taking on exceptionally broken clients. I picked up my crate of belongings and took one last look around the office. I would miss this place and the people, but I would find another home soon enough. I’ll never stop trying to help.

Imagine Stephen King ...
as your therapist!

A patient with OCD whose loved ones really did suffer every time he missed a ritual. A choir boy who claimed he was being molested – not by a priest – but by God Himself. A patient with PTSD who gave me nightmares. A husband and wife who accused each other of abuse, and only one of them was telling the truth. A woman who kept her ex locked up as a sex slave.

And how could I ever forget, Patient #220.

There was shouting and crying, but I didn’t pay much attention. Instead, I looked into Alex’s eyes, which were mere inches from my face. I saw sadness, but I also saw pride. I saw the face of a young man who felt he had redeemed himself. I ran my hand through his hair and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

This is some twisted "Stephen King" shit ...
and it's awesome! 😲

No, I'm not proud about it ...
but here we are 🤫🤷‍♂️😏

“What I’m trying to say—” Noah breathes again, all big, like he’s blowing up a balloon, and I can’t stop myself copying him—“is that I’m bi, well, pan, but I always tell people I’m bi. It’s easier. Not everyone knows what pan is. And not everyone agrees they’re different, but to me they are and sometimes it’s still too hard to have a conversation about the differences.”

Yep

I wish I could make myself into an invisible barrier between Noah and whatever keeps hurting him. Half-drawn me could do that in my half-drawn world. If Noah was a half-drawn boy too, I could protect him. I’m sure of it.

I close my eyes, imagining drawing myself into someone stronger.

Someone different.

A wave of panic jolts through me. I don’t know where I am. I want Alexei to come get me. Because I don’t know where I am. I don’t know where I am. The thought starts to loop in my brain. There are too many noises, too many smells, too many flashes of light. Nothing's familiar. I press my hands over my ears, squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body so tense it hurts. The world is a sea, and it’s drowning me.

Oh, my

“So, um…te gusta el español?” a quiet, cat-step of a voice asks. “You like Spanish?”

I close my eyes and sway back on my heels in shock, mainly because I was looking at Noah’s face in the photograph and thinking about him and yet not noticing him standing right next to me. I feel like a magician. As if my thoughts have made him appear. And now I’d like them to make him un-appear again, thank you very much.

I did not realize, going in, that this is a "sequel" to 'Happiness Project' ... which I loved! 🥰 Of course I did, it's Suki Fleet, an all-time "Top 5" author for me, no question! This is not promoted that way and I'm not sure why. I'm sure it can be read as a stand-alone but I'd recommend reading 'Happiness Project' first to meet Gregor's brother, Alexei, and Bruno ... and get Gregor's early years background.

I don’t want another label, another thing people will think is wrong with me. Not that the people who know me and love me ever make me feel wrong exactly. Because I’m just me to them. I know I am, and I’ll always be just me to them whatever I say and do. And deep inside I know I’m not wrong. I just don’t fit in with the whole rest of the world of people who don’t know me.

Preach, Gregor! 👊

I should be able to talk the doctors say, but I know I won’t like how all the different sounds feel in my mouth, so I don’t let them out. Some sounds are okay, like growling or laughing, but most aren’t, and I know making not-okay sounds will make my whole body feel very wrong. So it’s safer to stay silent. Maybe I’m allergic to words. The only place where they’re okay is when they’re contained inside my head.