I was laying on the top of a bunk bed. I was staring at the ceiling, which was painted red. I took a pencil and drew a circle on the ceiling. Then I regretted drawing it because I didn't know if I'd be able to erase it without harming the paint.
My therapist was sitting at a computer in the room. She got up and walked over to me, handed a big stack of photographs to me and said, "I'm worried about you. Look through these photographs and see how happy you used to be. You've got to do something."
I looked through the photographs. There were photos of me from about four or five years ago, and I looked happy and healthy, there were also photos of me from when I was in flags in high school. In the flag photos I stood tall and proud. I cried to see myself then, because I missed her. There was a photograph of me blowing out some birthday candles, but in the photo I wasn't in focus or clear, it seemed more like I was a spirit and I was bright.
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