Chapter Text
June 15, 2027
Dear Journal,
Dr. Martinez asked me to start writing again. I haven't written anything in months because expressing my
thoughts and feelings on paper is like trying to funnel the ocean through a straw. When I do manage to articulate
them, I tend to sand down any rough edges that might reveal how little control I have. Dr. Martinez believes
that writing in a journal consistently will teach me to keep the rough edges intact. According to her, smoothing
them prevents me from meeting the parts of myself I have yet to understand.
I have torn out and thrown away a total of ten pages full of crossed-out sentences while trying to write a single
entry. I think it is safe to say that I have already defeated the purpose of this exercise, but I'm willing to give
myself another chance. I want to continue opening the doors I locked even if I might not like what I find behind
them. The only time I am actually growing is when I am uncomfortable. Yet there was a moment last night when
I found myself unable to sit with discomfort.
My mind had wandered somewhere new while I touched myself — somewhere with two bodies pressed against
mine instead of one — and I responded by blocking the image because I was afraid. I did not explore my fear to
see where it would lead me. I simply shut down. Tonight, I want to examine the image and what it stirred within
me. I don't want to keep pretending that I didn't see it or feel myself grow wetter when it filled my mind.