at therapy… it’s almost like I can see the hope draining from
Dr Jacksons eyes. We’re
both trying… so
fucking hard. We’ve
been trying for a year and a half now…
and we have nothing. I feel so… defeated. I’m so tired. We’re… trying all these new techniques with like… meditation and trying to access repressed
memories but I don’t
think it’s working. She even wants to watch me sleep now.
We’re getting desperate
and it’s killing me.”
I pulled him in closer, latching my hand at the back of his neck and making
sure his forehead crashed against mine, looking deep into his eyes, residue
filling them, just like the way that raindrops land on petals in thick
splashes, beautiful but too heavy for their new home.