The mere thought of her name - the echoing syllables of the word 'Jamila' - is enough to reopen the oozing, weeping wound carved into the core of my being. I can feel the grief and heartache welling up from somewhere deep inside, a tsunami of emotion threatening to sweep me away in its crushing undertow.

Swallowing hard and sucking air between my teeth, I force myself to meet Dr. Desai's steady gaze, my own eyes burning with a sudden, stinging heat. "My... my girlfriend broke up with me," I whisper, the words emerging in a choked, ragged rush. "A bit ago, actually. She... she said she couldn't do it anymore, that things were just getting too intense for her to handle. And then she, y'know, is quitting the extracurriculars. And we don't go to the same places or hang out with the same people so..."

The admission seems to hang in the air between us like a suffocating miasma, the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders until I feel like I might crumple beneath the strain. Dr. Desai regards me again for another long moment, sympathetic. Like looking at a dog toy that got ripped in half.

I laugh a little bit. "Probably never going to see her again!" I say, trying to put on a happy face while my wrists tense up. Then, it fails, and my mouth flops like a wet fish into a frown.

Then, clearing his throat, he leans forward slightly in his seat. "I'm very sorry to hear that, Samantha," he says, the words emerging soft and measured, yet laden with a quiet sincerity. "Breakups are never easy, especially when the relationship in question means as much to us as this one clearly did to you. Please know that you have my deepest condolences."

I nod mutely, blinking back the hot sting of tears as I force myself to maintain my tenuous grip on composure. My jaw clenches hard enough to ache, every muscle in my body tensing as if bracing for an impact that never seems to come.

"Thanks. I'm fine, though," I manage at last, the words little more than a breathless rasp. Pausing, I suck in a shuddering breath, steeling my resolve as I raise my gaze to meet the doctor's once more. "It's just... I don't understand , you know? We were so good together, so happy. And then, out of nowhere, she just... she just drops this on me, like it's nothing. Like everything we had didn't even matter to her anymore."

The words tumble forth in a breathless torrent. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the first hints of bitter, stinging tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as the fragile mask of detachment begins to splinter and crack.

"I just... I don't get it, man," I continue, the words emerging in a choked rush as I fight to maintain my rapidly fraying composure. I'm fine. I'm fine. "Was it something I did? Something I said? Because if it was, I swear, I didn't mean... I would never..."

Trailing off, I squeeze my eyes shut once more, fingers clenching into tight fists as I struggle to ride out the fresh swell of anguish crashing over me. My nails dig deep into the meat of my palms, the sharp sting of pain helping to ground me in the moment as the world seems to narrow to a single, razor-sharp point of focus.

"Samantha..." Dr. Desai's voice seems to emerge from somewhere far away, the familiar cadences muted and indistinct against the roar of emotion thundering through my mind. "I know this is incredibly difficult for you right now, and that the pain you're feeling is very real and very raw. But you need to understand that, sometimes, these things simply... happen , regardless of what either party may want or intend."

I shake my head mutely, eyes still squeezed shut as I fight to maintain the tattered remnants of my composure. Every inch of my body seems tensed, coiled like a spring as the words seem to detonate against the inside of my skull.

"No, you don't... you don't get it ," I manage at last, the words little more than a breathless rasp. "Gale was... she was everything to me, man. The first person who ever really... who ever really saw me, you know? Not just Bloodhound, or some dumb kid playing superhero, but... but me. The real me."

Pausing, I force myself to meet the doctor's steady gaze once more, my own eyes burning with a sudden, stinging heat as the words seem to catch in my throat. "And now she's just... gone. Like none of it ever even mattered in the first place. Like I never even mattered, not really. I must've done something wrong to earn this. Why would she leave otherwise? I..."

The admission seems to hang in the air between us, heavy and oppressive, as Dr. Desai looks at me with an expression that makes me want to rip his skin off, followed shortly by my own. I hate people's pity. For a long moment, the only sound is the harsh cadence of my own breathing, each shallow exhalation seeming to fill up the stifling confines of the room.

Then, clearing his throat, the doctor leans forward slightly in his seat. "Samantha, I need you to listen to me very carefully," he says, oddly intense. "What you're feeling right now, this sense of loss and abandonment... it's normal. It's natural to feel that way in the wake of such a profound upheaval in your life. But you cannot allow yourself to fall into the trap of believing that Gale's decision in any way diminishes your own self-worth or inherent value as a person."

I open my mouth to protest, but the doctor raises one hand in a gentle, placating gesture. "Please, just... just hear me out," he continues, voice soft yet insistent. "Relationships, even the most profound and meaningful ones, are ultimately transient things. They ebb and flow, wax and wane with the currents of life and the ever-shifting tides of personal growth and circumstance. What you had with Gale was real , Samantha. It was beautiful , a profound connection that helped shape you into the remarkable young woman you've become today."

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Pausing, he hits me with a look of quiet understanding, as if peering into the very depths of my soul. It feels like getting cold clocked. Pumice was less painful. "But that doesn't mean it was meant to last forever, nor does it negate the value and meaning you derived from that relationship while it endured. The fact that it has now ended, as painful as that reality may be, does not in any way diminish the truth of what you two shared together. Do you understand?"

I swallow hard, blinking back the hot sting of tears as I force myself to hold the doctor's steady gaze. Part of me wants to rail against his words, to deny the stark reality he's laying out before me. There's another part, but I don't listen to it. I'm rapidly finding myself getting angry. I don't know why.

So I simply nod, the motion tight and controlled as I struggle to maintain my balance and temper. "I... yeah, I think... I think I understand," I manage at last, the words little more than a breathless rasp. "It's just... it hurts , you know? Like someone reached into my chest and just... just tore everything out, leaving nothing but this big, empty hole behind."

The last words emerge in a deep squeal, bitter and accusatory in a way I can't quite put my finger on. My hands are trembling now, nails biting crescents into the soft leather as I fight to maintain some semblance of control.

Dr. Desai doesn't so much as flinch, merely examining me with that same infuriatingly calm, measured gaze. "Samantha, I want you to listen to me very carefully," he begins, leaning forward with an intense, piercing stare. "What Gale is feeling, what led her to make the decision she did - that has nothing to do with you or your self-worth, do you understand?"

I open my mouth to protest, to reject his words and the gentle reassurance behind them. But something in his eyes seems to freeze the words in my throat, a silent entreaty to simply listen for once in my goddamn life. I want to start screaming and rip my skin off, in whatever order is convenient for me.

"The truth is, we can never truly know or understand another person's innermost thoughts and feelings, not really," he continues, voice soft but carrying a weight of quiet conviction. "Gale is on her own journey, one fraught with struggles and demons that are entirely her own to confront. Whatever led her to make this decision, you cannot allow it to become a referendum on your own value or self-worth, Samantha. That path leads only to misery and despair."

His words seem to slice through the haze of anguish and bitter recrimination swirling within me, momentarily piercing the veil and allowing a fleeting glimpse of clarity to shine through. I hate it. Let me go back to my hole, please. I suck in a breath, chest heaving with the exertion of simply being in this moment.

"Then... then what am I supposed to do , man?" I plead, the words tearing themselves free in a rushing flow. "How am I supposed to just... just move on from something like this? She was... Gale was everything to me, you know? And now she's just... gone. Like none of it even mattered in the end. Why? I need you to tell me. What do I do?"

The ache in my chest is a physical thing, a vast and yawning chasm threatening to swallow me whole. I can feel my throat constricting, the weight of a thousand unspoken recriminations and bitter accusations pressing down on me like a thousand pounds of suffocating force.

"You heal, Samantha. One day at a time, one breath at a time, you simply allow yourself to feel the pain, the loss, the anguish... and then you keep moving forward. Allow it to pass over and through you. It won't be easy, and there may be days where it feels like the weight of it all might crush you utterly." He pauses, offering me a tight, reassuring smile. "But you are stronger than you know, my friend. Far, far stronger than even you realize. And you do not have to walk this path alone."

My fingers won't stop clenching and unclenching against the worn leather beneath them. A part of me wants to reject his words, to lash out and retreat back into the comforting embrace of anger and bitter recrimination. I want to rip his skin off. But I don't, because that's bad. Don't do that.

The silence stretches out between us, fragile and charged with a strange, stifling tension. Dr. Desai doesn't push, merely allowing the moment to unfold at its own pace as he watches me with that same inscrutable, patient gaze.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I let out a soft, shuddering exhalation, shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly beneath the weight of my own weariness. "You're right," I murmur, the words soft and thick with exhaustion. "I know you're right, man. I just... why? Why did she leave?" Pausing, I rake a hand through my hair, throat tightening with a fresh surge of emotion. "I'm just... I'm so tired , you know? Of fighting, of struggling, of having to be the strong one all the damn time. For once, I just want..."

The words seem to catch in my throat, refusing to emerge as a sudden, yawning vertigo sweeps through me. My chest is rising and falling rapidly now, every muscle in my body tensed as if bracing for an unseen impact. I feel like passing out.

Dr. Desai regards me with a solemn, sober expression, dark eyes shining with a deep understanding. "You want to be able to simply exist without the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders," he finishes, the words soft and stern at once. "To be able to feel your emotions, to process them without fear or shame or the need to project an aura of unwavering strength."

I manage a tight nod, gaze dropping to my lap as I fight off a sudden, treacherous surge of tears. Because as much as I might wish to deny it, to lash out and reject the vulnerability of this moment... he's right. He's always been right, damn him. Fuck therapists. Letting out another sigh, I seem to deflate all at once, the weight of responsibility and expectation sloughing from my shoulders like a dead dog falling off.

I feel raw, hollowed out - a husk drained of everything save the brittle, fragile kernel of... something.

Dr. Desai doesn't respond immediately, merely regarding me with that same inscrutable patience. When he does speak, his words seem to reverberate through the stillness with a simple, profound weight.

"You don't have to carry that burden alone, not anymore, Samantha. That's why you're here - to learn how to share the load, how to allow yourself to simply be without the ever-present need to project an outward aura of strength and resilience."

The enormity of it all seems to crash over me in that moment, a vast, yawning tidal wave of pain and fear and anguish that I've been so desperately striving to keep at bay. My chest is heaving now, every muscle in my body tensed as I struggle against the deluge, fighting to maintain some semblance of control even as the floodgates threaten to burst asunder.

But Dr. Desai remains steady and resolute, an anchor amidst the churning tempest as he simply waits , allowing me to ride out the storm in my own time. And slowly, gradually, I can feel the roiling currents of emotion begin to ebb and recede, the vast, overwhelming pressure seeming to diminish fractionally with every exhalation.

"I hate therapy, dude," I mumble, feeling exhausted, feeling all the pain in my bandaged wounds flaring back up at once.

"You and many others," Dr. Desai jokes. "How has the Lithium been treating you?"