in yeSterday's SKY,

there was a shadow of blue

it was bEautiful,

it was horrible, too.

you clouded me with judgement,

losing peAce within me,

if i find this peace,

will you leave me?

Dr. Nikki sat across from me. Her black, leathered clipboard sat on her lap, along with the pen she typically holds onto in her right hand. She looks at me and asks, "So, what's new? Have you tried anything new so far?"

I fix my gaze on the artwork that hangs behind her. When Clarissa decided to find a new therapist for me, it was the very first thing I saw in her office the instant I walked there. Dr. Nikki's office appears to be more relaxing than Dr. Gregzilla's (her brother and my former psychiatrist).

Dr. Gregzilla's office, in my memory, was more earthy. His walls were pale green, his furniture was brown, and the black leather couch I typically sat on in his office clashed with the carpet on his floor.

"I've resumed sketching again, although I believe I mentioned that during our last session," As my mind wanders and replays the last session and conversation I had with her, I tell her. "I attempted to paint, but I didn't make much progress."

Dr. Nikki flips open her clipboard and begins scribbling on the paper inside. She stops, almost immediately, writing as she lays down her pen and glances back at me, "What did you mean about not making much progress about painting?"

"I brought out my painting materials, sat down, closed my eyes like I usually do before painting or sketching," I recalled what happened that day and continued, "Then I started hearing voices again."

I look at Dr. Nikki, my face contorts as I try to remember it, "It was... I recall having a nostalgic sensation of anxiousness pinning me down," I tell her. "It felt like I was on the verge of slipping into psychosis. Those psychotic episodes, again."

"How did you manage to get yourself out of that trance?"

"Zania found me. I snapped out of it as soon as she called out to me."

My mind wanders onto another train of thought as I recalled what happened two days earlier, the night Aaren and I drove to Pasadena to get the next note.

I'm starting to become irritated because all of the notes are strewn over California or maybe somewhere else far away from where I am. The thing that makes me wonder is... did Elise really predict where these notes would end up? As it finds a place to relocate that isn't too close to ours?

"What are you thinking right now?" Dr. Nikki asks.

I look at her as my face scrunches, "What do you mean? Aren't we all always thinking something?"

Dr. Nikki pushes her eyeglasses upon her face to prevent it from falling and says, "When you ponder on something deep, you always have this look on your face. It's as though you're being suffocated by your own thoughts."

I silently nod my head. She wasn't entirely incorrect in her claims. I, too, would like to see what I look like when I'm thinking deeply about something.

I open my lips to speak, but then I reconsider, thinking of Elise and the notes. I'm not sure if I can place my trust in her with it.

I simply don't trust Dr. Nikki with my emotions. I'd say I haven't spoken to her about everything on how I feel about specific issues that I still avoid, particularly those involving death. I can only say that she has my trust in my mental illness—my schizophrenia.

"I was just thinking about going to places," I told her.

It wasn't a complete lie, and it wasn't the entire truth, either. At least, I told her about it.

"You're considering traveling, is that what you mean?" Dr. Nikki asks, and I nodded my head. "Outside the country—"

"—Just here in America," I cut her off almost immediately, "Maybe such places that Elise loved to go to or places that my parents like going to."

Dr. Nikki nods her head and asks, "Why do you think so?"

"Well," I started off, "I like to think that there are places that make people happy, and I'd want to search for those places that made Elise, my mom, and dad happy. I want to experience the exact same feeling they had when they were there."

"What if it won't give you the feeling you wanted to feel?" Dr. Nikki questions. "Will you stop searching for those places? Will you stop searching if it doesn't give you that feeling?"

I had no idea what to say to her. When I felt attacked by her questions, I became silent, but I knew that something— deep down —I wasn't ready to admit to just yet.

All I knew is that it never brings me satisfaction. The sense of being neither half-full nor empty. It's difficult to admit that I'm searching for a feeling merely to feel satisfied since it influences my decisions. My choices. My way of living. It's difficult for me to acknowledge that I seek happiness since it doesn't come naturally to me. It's difficult to acknowledge that I look for other people's happiness since it made them happy in hopes that I might feel the same.

The thing I can absorb and understand about emotions is that they aren't permanent. It doesn't matter if you're happy or sad. I already understood that just because I'm happy today doesn't guarantee I'll be happy for the rest of my life.

"I already settled with the idea that nothing is consistent, especially emotions," I tell Dr. Nikki.

Choosing what makes us happy and what will make us this specific person is, in my perspective, better than seeking happiness in what made other people happy. It's deciding to be happy for your own sake rather than for the sake of others.

I stare at my lap as I fidget with my fingers, "It's just that there are days when I don't feel like I'm making any progress. I don't want to be in pain, and I know it'll pass soon, but it's been years, and I'm starting to feel like I'm out of time."

"Lauren," Dr. Nikki says, making me raise my head. I look at her, and there was a smile on her face as she continues, "By owning up to those aspects of yourself, you've already made significant progress. I am extremely glad of you."

Dr. Nikki swivels her chair around, placing the clipboard on the table behind her. She turns around and then faces me again,

"It's the way you handle pain and the way you let pain handle your life. Remember that whatever progress you make, no matter how small or big, slow or quick, is still progress. You should be proud of the person you are right now."

I should be. I wish I could, but I lack the need to be that. I lack the confidence to believe in myself and be proud of my own being.

I despise it more than I despise the fact that I am alive. I despise it more than I despise living and existence.