Page 5

She told me all about her nightmares that night.

It was two in the morning, and neither of us wanted to sleep, so we spent the entire night talking, and for the first time, I felt like I had found someone who understood me.

She would tell a story, and I would listen, and then the craziest thing would happen.

Whenever it was my turn to tell a story, she would actually listen to me.

I don’t know how I could tell, but just by the look in her eyes, I knew she actually cared about what I was saying.

I had never had that in someone before. I had never had someone who wanted to hear about the silly thoughts I thought I had.

Eventually, I started giving her small bits of the thoughts that often kept me up at night, and she would listen to those too, telling me it was okay to feel how I was.

She was the first person who ever wanted to actually hear those thoughts, and she never judged me.

She just listened. From that night on, we were inseparable.

I kept giving her pieces of myself, Ella too, and eventually, when Hads joined our group, it got easier to open up.

Not fully, but more than I ever had before.

Those three girls knew me. Better yet, they knew me and they accepted me.

They didn't mind that I would disappear sometimes, my thoughts often so overwhelming that I had to take breaks from the world and realign myself.

They always knew I would come back. They trusted me, loved me when nobody else would, and accepted every flawed and cracked part of me.

And in return, I ruined it, but that’s the entire reason I’m coming back. I’m going to fix what I ruined and prove to the people I love that I’m not going to run again. I’m not going to let my stupid brain ruin some of the best relationships I’ve ever had just because it operates a bit differently.

I’m headed back for good, not just for Paige’s wedding. Nobody knows I’ll be back permanently, and I intend to keep it that way until I can prove to the people I love I’m serious about staying.

I have a lot of hard conversations coming—I know that. I’m as prepared as I can be for this, and while I am nervous about telling them about my diagnosis, I want to make it clear I’m not just blaming that for what I did to them.

It was still me, but it also didn't help the decisions I made when I did. I’m still at fault, but I’m also taking the proper steps to fix what I broke.

That’s growth if I’ve ever seen it.

I’m sure the girls are assuming I’ll be back for this two-week wedding celebration and then I’ll ghost and never speak to them again, but that’s not the case.

I’m coming back to prove I can stick around.

I don’t regret the time I spent in London. In fact, I’ll always look back on it as a decision that helped me in the long run. Not only did I discover so much about myself, but it also drove me to finally reach a place where I feel okay about myself and the life I’ve lived.

London was merely a chapter of the overall story of my life, and though struggles came with it, I will always be grateful for it.

Coming back to Virginia does have me a bit on edge, like I knew it would.

It’s going to be terrifying seeing these girls again, knowing how they feel about me.

I’m surprised the save the date for Paige’s wedding even showed up in January when I was spiraling.

I didn't answer that one—I had bigger things to worry about.

When the invitation showed up in July, I spent an entire session talking to Dr. Elyse about the pros and cons of going back.

Not only would it be a major disruption to my routine, but I didn't want to repeat the same behaviors.

Moving back for good felt like the only option.

Plus, I had nothing keeping me in London besides my job, and I can be employed anywhere.

Though leaving the job I originally left the States for was another topic I went in circles about, my therapist reminded me that though the opportunity was great, it wasn't worth it if I wasn't the best version of myself.

I had barely moved up the ladder over the two years I was in London. The decision to leave it all behind was difficult, but ultimately, it felt like the best option.

Though, nothing is the same. I know it’s not going to be.

I know it’s going to be awkward, confusing, and uncomfortable, my routine in London all out of whack.

But I can’t spend the rest of my life afraid to fix my mistakes, and I can’t keep missing out on these huge moments of my friends’ lives, only able to see some of it through social media.

I feel like a stranger coming back to this place I used to know like the back of my hand. Only, it didn't change; I did. The first time I was truly on my own—everything I had thought I needed—and my entire life crumbled. Now, I’m running back to my friends.

I wonder if they missed me how I’ve missed them in the hard moments.

I wonder if they think I’m coming to this wedding just to bolt again after.

I wonder if Paige is the only one who still believes in me, or if the invitation was a last ditch effort she thought wouldn't work. I wonder if I’m a person still worth missing.

I wonder if he misses me .

The thought pops into my head before I can stop it. Not wanting to relive the memories of him that echo in my mind, I turn my music up as loud as it can go .

Another wave of turbulence hits, and I’m sure this plane ride is a metaphor for my life—violent jerks of discomfort followed by a steady motion.

I sigh heavily as the next song on my playlist comes on before checking how much longer I have up in the air. Only four more hours to go, and I’m sure in that time, I’ll be trying and failing to come up with things to say about my diagnosis and how fucking sorry I am for leaving them all behind.

The consequences of my own actions have once again decided to punch me in the face, and I’m going to sit here and own it for once.

I fucked up, and I have to fix it.

No. I’m going to fix it—even if it kills me.