For the following days since our bench meeting, Sara and I became even closer. We were with eachother as much as possible. But it wasn’t like everything was planned out specifically. Often times one of us would just show up at one of the other’s doorsteps. It was mostly Sara who came to visit me though, and each time she did she brightened my day.
We had developed somewhat of a schedule during the week. Every time I needed to go to Dr. Shimak she would be there to take me. And before we left each time we would meet on the bench and sit together. We would just talk and laugh and be there, just hanging out. It was actually a really nice time for me, and each time was special. I never got tired of watching her walk across the street only to take a seat beside me. Golden hair always sparkling, flawless smile spread across her face. And she had a great figure, but I didn’t think about stuff like that. Or I tried not to.
It gave me such a sense of importance that such a great person like Sara would go out of her way to spend time with me. The feelings I had when I was with Sara, or thinking about Sara was the type of thing I put in my journal. I guess I thought they were things Dr. Shimak would want to hear about.
After our second meeting, Dr. Shimak wanted to try a new approach to me. She suggested that I keep a journal of my days instead of having to tell her everything. All I had to do was write down anything I felt like writing, or thought was important or whatever. The problem was, everything was pretty personal stuff. Stuff I really didn’t want people to read.
It was personal in the sense that it contained my day to day feelings, but it also held my past. Somehow a bit of my life would find its way onto each page of my journal. I really didn’t want anyone to read about me.
But the journal was actually helping me. It was a place where I couold let things out without having to let anyone know. But Dr. Shimak would have to know eventually. The first session after I used my journal she wanted to read it. Somehow, and I don’t know how, I persuaded her to not read it that time. And then the time after that. Somehow each time I never had to give it to her. I knew that wouldn’t last forever though, she wouldn’t let me go unless she was able to read it.
But that fact never really brought me down, I was just relieve that I could release my past somewhere. I wrote about everything. Didn’t leave anything out. Sometimes things went out of order because I couldn’t face certain memories. Some things were just too painful. Often times though something I couldn’t face one day I would be able to face another day. I just took everything one day at a time and waited to see where things would lead me.