Status: The end. Thank you all so much for reading.
Wrists
leave .
When Dr. Reynolds informed me that it had been 5 months since I was first admitted to the Avalon Hills clinic, I found it hard to believe her. Things seemed so bleak at first, but—slowly but surely—I began to see the place in a new light. Everyone, no matter how they acted towards me, were my friends, my strongest friends, and all of the doctors and specialists were people I could trust. And when I got on Dr. Poorman’s scale and saw that I weight 132 pounds, I didn’t feel guilt or depression, or even the need to empty my stomach of my breakfast. Instead, I looked the doctor in her eyes and thanked her from the bottom of my heart.
I had actually gotten better.
And, because of my improvement, Dr. Reynolds let me know that that day was the day I could leave. I felt bad and, actually, a tad heavy-hearted that I got to go while everyone else had to stay behind, but Amelia assured me that I deserved it, and that we could still keep in touch (she had given me her cell phone number a few months back). I admit it: I cried. I cried very hard, because I was going to miss everyone there so, so badly. But my parents—and even Elijah—came by to help me pack, and then I felt light again.
No one was as proud as my father. He hugged me and talked to me for a while, and was actually acting like he cared. Things were finally looking up. I drove home with Elijah and May (my family told me that I could if I wanted to, and, of course, I wanted to). More tears were shed on the way back; May was sobbing her eyes out.
I had to console her the whole time, as if she had gone through what I had. It made me feel good that she cared so much. “You look like a whole new person,” May told me once she had calmed down. “A new, improved Graham.”
I smiled, but something about her comment made me feel down for the rest of the car ride. Even though I had most definitely gotten better since my stay at the clinic, I could still feel the demons in my mind; but they were now dormant, waiting for their chance to attack when I’m weakened.
Elijah dropped me off by my house—but now before a gentle kiss to the lips and a promise that he’d visit me tomorrow—and I greeted my parents in the house. To prove to them that I had actually made a lot of progress over the months, I suggested eating out for dinner. My mother was shocked, but she eventually accepted the offer, as did my father and Cheyenne.
A habit I couldn’t give up just yet, I ordered off of the kids’ menu, and ate about ¾ of it. I disappointed myself in the disability to eat it all—or even eat off of the adult’s menu—though, some things couldn’t be forced. I was still trying, and that was all that mattered to me.
Things will never be the same, but at least they’ll be better.
I had actually gotten better.
And, because of my improvement, Dr. Reynolds let me know that that day was the day I could leave. I felt bad and, actually, a tad heavy-hearted that I got to go while everyone else had to stay behind, but Amelia assured me that I deserved it, and that we could still keep in touch (she had given me her cell phone number a few months back). I admit it: I cried. I cried very hard, because I was going to miss everyone there so, so badly. But my parents—and even Elijah—came by to help me pack, and then I felt light again.
No one was as proud as my father. He hugged me and talked to me for a while, and was actually acting like he cared. Things were finally looking up. I drove home with Elijah and May (my family told me that I could if I wanted to, and, of course, I wanted to). More tears were shed on the way back; May was sobbing her eyes out.
I had to console her the whole time, as if she had gone through what I had. It made me feel good that she cared so much. “You look like a whole new person,” May told me once she had calmed down. “A new, improved Graham.”
I smiled, but something about her comment made me feel down for the rest of the car ride. Even though I had most definitely gotten better since my stay at the clinic, I could still feel the demons in my mind; but they were now dormant, waiting for their chance to attack when I’m weakened.
Elijah dropped me off by my house—but now before a gentle kiss to the lips and a promise that he’d visit me tomorrow—and I greeted my parents in the house. To prove to them that I had actually made a lot of progress over the months, I suggested eating out for dinner. My mother was shocked, but she eventually accepted the offer, as did my father and Cheyenne.
A habit I couldn’t give up just yet, I ordered off of the kids’ menu, and ate about ¾ of it. I disappointed myself in the disability to eat it all—or even eat off of the adult’s menu—though, some things couldn’t be forced. I was still trying, and that was all that mattered to me.
Things will never be the same, but at least they’ll be better.
♠ ♠ ♠
Things will be coming to an end soon. <3