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Dear whoever

My therapist had told me to try writing in a diary or journal or whatever they call it. So I can put my thoughts into words and express myself. I honestly think that it's all bs but I started having those shitty thoughts and I gave it a try.

I dont know how to start these things, not that it matters, no one will read it anyway. I COULD begin with an intro of myself, but I could also just continue writing whatever pops into my head.

I guess I will do neither, instead I will explain what I did today:

Today, like every other day, started off with me pushing snooze on my alarm clock more times than I should, only to be awoken by my annoying brother.

Then it's getting ready, usually I wear the exact same clothes I wear to bed. However, today was not only a school day, but group therapy day. fun.

Group therapy is once a week, and my brother makes me go because I had chosen not to go to single person therapy due to the fact that it didn't helped my... condition.

During group therapy days i was supossed to wear something that made me look less like a "hoodlum" as my mother used to say. Usually it was a flannel and some jeans, sadly its the only casual, but not slobby, clothing option I have. My mother wanted me to look better and more approachable in hopes that I might get a freind, and if you really wanna streach it a boyfriend.

Considering the fact that I am writing to a journal and not texting my bae, you should know that I have no friends, and the boyfriend card hasn't showed up yet.

Anyways back todays events, back to why I am even stupid enough to try writing in a shitty journal trying not to think shitty thoughts. I go to school, which is a small, private school with only 20 students, max. It isn't the only high school in town, there is a bigger one down the road but my family likes to live a more secluded life style away from basically everyone.

And they wonder why I have no friends.

Though there are twenty students, I know none of their names and I had never bothered to learn their names for I honestly, excuse my language, never gave a fuck.

I go to school and I compete the work in a matter of four hours. Then I take a nap and eat; all at the school. It's pretty great honestly.

After school I go to the so called therapy that I dressed up for, my brother usually drives me, but since the schedule change at his work I am forced to walk. Thankfully it's only a 20 minute walk away, however It's still a walk. An exercise.

I get to the location of the group therapy, it's pretty much a small building next to a flower shop that no one knows exsist. This group therapy is supposedly appealing to struggling teens.

Thankfully it isn't too bad on the inside, it doesn't smell like a doctors office, but more like a home. It has a couple of cancels lit, old used couches and sofas are scattered around the room, a pool table is in one corner while table tennis it in the other, a huge flat screen tv is in the middle of the room. It would be the best place to be if I didn't have to talk so much about my feelings.

Inside there are already some people gathered around a table talking to each other as if they are best friends, as if they see each other everyday.

The therapy session starts at four, I usually get there around 3:45 giving me enough time to get my anxiety to a reasonable level and to eat a cookie or two.

People know my name at The Den (that's what they call this group therapy hang out place, could they not think of anything better?) they know that I am what most call a pessimist, and they know to keep away because I'm sure they already feel like shit. They dont need another person to make them feel even shittier.

At four o'clock everyone gathers around on the mismatched chairs and sofas, waiting for the group therapist to make their way in.

There are two group therapist, Sander and Valorie, it took a while to remember their names honestly. Valorie prefers to be called Val and she is 23, a student who just got out of college. Sander, who's name seems to go perfectly with his personality, is more laid back, has been out of college for a couple of years, almost hippie-like. He had never informed any of us his age, but he looks around his early thirtys.

He is cute honestly, but dont tell my brother I said that.

Shoot I'm going off course. Again.

So I'm in the building, sitting on a sofa, wearing my flannel, and waiting for the two therapist to show up so I can carry on with my day.

When Valorie and Sander show up they sit in two plastic chairs in the middle of the room, but smiles on their faces.

They start with introductions, about 15 people are in the room, including me.

I dont remember what they said or who they are, I remember only one person who had bright red hair and seemed to be new. And cute.

His name was Micheal. His hair was obviously dyed and he was wearing a flower crown and an adorable sweater that gave him the cutest sweater-paws.

Before I saw him I thought I would never go for the more feminine males; however seeing him had changed my mind completely.

I didn't say my name when it was my turn to get introduced, it wasn't unusual, I dont speak often. But Val was nice enough to introduce me;

"Calum." I remember her saying, "that's his name, anyways, next?"

The rest of the meeting was a blur, I paid no attention to Valorie talking about body confidence and Sanders talking about drug abuse.

After the meeting I had walked home, I was the first one to leave. I didn't want to run into anyone, I just wanted to go home.

Don't get me wrong, it would be great to be in a relationship, especially with that adorable kitten Michael. However l had heard of all the people in relationships; getting divorced, getting physically or mentally abused, getting raped, getting a teen pregnancy. Anything of the sorts that can ruin a persons life. I know I dont want that and the fact that it could happen is frightening.

So sorry cute little red head Michael you cant be in my life.

Calum xx

Dear Whoever // Malum ✔️Where stories live. Discover now