19th of March, 1129, Tuesday (cont. 2)
I’m at the pond again, now.
There’s a strange feeling at the back of my head, like something knocking on a door. Like how squirrels scratch at windows when they want to be let in.
Everything is bothering me. Not even the stars in the pond make anything feel better.
Maybe it’s time.
My therapist told me once that I’d have to face it one day.
To be honest.
Do you remember, Diary, the first day I started you?
And why?
I needed a friend. Someone who wouldn’t judge me. Someone who would just listen, and be able to remember every single thing I told it.
Someone who I would share with, daily, until the point I felt that it was time to share about the incident.
Recently, I’ve felt more and more that maybe it’s now.
I’ll see how I feel in a bit.
Right now I just want to watch the stars.
You’ll give me that, won’t you, Diary? Give me a bit of time?