Its monotonous ticking let me know time after time that another second of my life had slipped away, another second was gone that I could never get back. It didn’t matter though. As far as I was concerned, the closer I was to death, the better. After all, what was the point of being on this earth for however many more seconds? In the end everyone dies, most of us having done absolutely nothing noteworthy to either help or harm mankind. These sombre thoughts were normal for me these days. I’m sure it’s the sort of thing my therapist would love to hear, the sort of thing she would encourage. I smiled to myself as I thought about her encouraging me to speak, encouraging me to speak my mind. I knew my complete lack of interest in telling her about my thoughts, in telling her about what goes on in my head, frustrated her. “Kylie, you need to allow yourself to heal. You can’t continue to punish yourself, or you’ll never move on with your life.” What Doctor Emma, as everyone called her, didn’t realize, was that I didn’t want to heal.
