Page 66 of Wild Thing
Finally, Dr. Crowe sets her pen down, slipping it into the fold of her notebook before closing it calmly.
She meets my eyes, her voice steady. “What are you feeling right now, Dylan?”
“Embarrassed and sickened,” I say honestly, the words tumbling out. “It's like I can't stand to be in my own skin. My heart—” I pause as my throat constricts. “It hurts. Myactualheart aches. It feels like my chest is going to cave in. Like I can’t breathe.”
I fall silent for a moment.
"And the worst part is, I can't tell the difference between what's heartbreak and what's guilt," then, I add, “I'm really fucked up.”
A single tear slips down my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw as I wipe it away. I've never been a cryer until I started therapy.
Now I cry all the fucking time.
The guilt and shame is suffocating. I don’t know if it’s slowly poisoning me, or if I’m already nearly dead from it. “I’m really fucking sad.”
Dr. Crowe gives me a lopsided smile as she leans forward. “What you’re feeling, Dylan, is heartbreak and remorse. Quite the combination."
“Okay,” I say cautiously, unsure of where this is going. “Is that… a good thing?”
Dr. Crowe chuckles quietly.
I feel my face redden.What the fuck?
“Well, narcissists and sociopaths don’t typically express such a raw admission of self-loathing. So, no. It’s not a bad thing.”
I let out a slow breath. “So… we can rule that out?”
“Yes, we can rule that out,” she says, chuckling again. “In one of our early sessions, you called yourself a ‘bad person.’ But bad people don’t feel regret. They don’t feel shame. And they certainly don’t feel remorse.”
“So… I’m not a bad person?”
"No, Dylan. You're not."
It might take me a while to agree with her, but I appreciate the optimism, nonetheless.
"In fact," Dr. Crowe continues, "I believe you're a good person who made some bad choices—several, actually. But that doesn't make you evil or beyond redemption. If you didn’t care, youwouldn’t be here, being brutally honest about your past, working to improve yourself, and to manage your impulses. Would you?"
I nod. My eyes drift back to the family photo on her desk. Her kids are lucky. Imagine having a parent this capable of forgiveness.
"Dylan, on the topic of impulsivity, I want to explore yours," Dr. Crowe begins, her voice calm but direct. "From what I understand, you said you were planning to end things with Zack once you got home."
She smooths her hands over the notepad resting in her lap.
Here comes a question that I don't want to answer.
"Why couldn't you and Brax wait?"
I hesitate. I've wondered the same thing a thousand times over.
“It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” I admit. “I couldn’t control myself for just one week. Sitting here and talking through it all, I can see how we should’ve just waited. But when I was around him," I pause. "I–I lose control.”
Fuck, this was painful. I miss him so much.
Dr. Crowe’s expression was blank. “Would you say you're motivated by instant gratification?”
I press my thumb into the palm of my hand, the sharp pressure a welcome feeling.
Aren’t we all driven by instant gratification?
