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I’m sorry to depress you all yesterday. Kelly called my therapist for an
emergency session, so I was able to talk through some of my issues. It’s been
frustrating for me. I often don’t realize when I’m being grumpy, and even when
I do, I don’t always know why. It was what those people did to me, taking my
organs. It’s not just about that, though. They didn’t know that I would be
rescued. They didn’t even bother to covertly drop me off at the nearest
hospital, or send an anonymous tip. They just left me there on the table,
assuming that I would die by the time anyone caught wind of my location. I
don’t think they care that I was rescued, because they were all pretty
much apprehended by then, and I didn’t see anyone’s face anyway. Which is
weird, when you think about it. Why did they hide their identities from me if
they didn’t think I would make it? Maybe I’m overthinking it. I mean, they did
take my kidneys and liver because they thought I was immortal. Well, maybe
they didn’t. Maybe they only took them because they knew that
other people believed as much, and that was enough motivation for them.
My therapist says that there are truths about this case that I will never
know, and I’ll be doing more harm than good by running my own little
investigation on the side. For the sake of my mental—and physical—health, I’m
better off looking for ways to put it all behind me. We don’t know how I’m
gonna do that, but it’s my first priority right now. I just have to remember
that they can’t hurt me anymore, nor anyone else. And I’m not going to give up
on my writing, even though I offered that suggestion last night. If I do that,
then they win, and we can’t have that, can we? I have to toughen up, and hold
firm.
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