Читать книгу True Confessions - Electa Rome Parks - Страница 10

Day three after my suicide attempt had me being released from the hospital, and going home to an empty apartment with an even emptier life. Still pretending everything was peachy keen, Mother had cleaned up my apartment, stocked my refrigerator with nutritious, healthy organic foods, thrown out every bottle of pills I had in my medicine cabinet, and even had a homecoming gift waiting for me: a leather-bound, tan, lined journal with hundreds of pages to fill with my confessions.

Dr. Mitchell may be right. If I write my feelings down, maybe I can make sense of my life as it’s laid out in front of me in black and white. The only way to do that was to start from the beginning. What was that quote? The past holds the clues to your present.

Like Mother, I could pretend too. I could pretend to feel better because there was no way that I was going to visit that shrink and get a crazy label attached to me. I’m not wacky; I simply had a momentary lack of judgment due to depression. However, I was determined to make a fresh start without Drake in my life and in my dreams.