Ninety-three

“You seem happy,” my therapist smiles at me when I walk inside her office.

“I am!” I grin, sitting down on the couch. I’m getting out tomorrow. I was supposed to be staying for a month, but I ended up staying for forty-five days based on my request. I was even more strict with myself regarding my use of my gadgets. I was allowed to freely use them after the first two weeks, but I decided to minimize my use for them as much as possible. I only used my phone when I wanted to make phone calls.

“You know, I still can’t believe you chose to stay here for more than the period assigned for you,” she tells me and I shrug.

“It was my choice to come here. I truly wanted to get better. If I had left after only one month just like how we originally planned, I would have been lying to myself.”

“Your honest desire to get better really warms my heart,” she tells me. “So how are you feeling today?”

“I feel fine. Really fine. It doesn’t hurt to breathe or to w