Therapy notes

Therapy notes

10.06.2026 5:15 AM

Dear anyone,

Well, where do I start?

My therapist told me to start journaling. I’ve been exercising daily, eating healthy, all that stuff. It’s not helping. Honestly, I’m ready to try anything at this point. 

Well, well, well. 

Well, Clara is the best person I’ve ever known. Kind, sweet, and always ready to help. She is, no, was…

She was really smart; she had this awesome clean-girl clothing style; she was sporty and did lots of after-school activities; she hated to brag. She was just… perfect

I could never compare to her. Mom used to say, “How could you be twins?’  

Well, that always stung.

But now, it doesn’t matter.  

​

I have to go to school.

​

12.06.2026 3:48 PM

Dear anyone,

I think I worked out for a little too long yesterday.

I was so tired that I didn’t even go to school. I just lay around in bed and watched reels. No time for journaling.

But about this afternoon.

I was just at my therapist’s place. She told me to be more open. She also gave me some questions that I could answer here. She’ll read this because I gave her permission.

Let’s start.

How am I feeling right now?

How is the atmosphere at home?

How did I feel when the car crash happened?

How do I feel when thinking about Clara?

1. I feel fine. I'm a little sick. It’s still cold even though winter is long gone. Also, ninth grade is not fun. Everybody keeps asking me where Clara is, so I just go to the bathroom, and cry, and eat, and all that stuff. But otherwise I’m fine.

I don’t wanna answer the other questions. Is that ok?

​

18.06.2026 9:50 PM

I was sick. I didn’t have the energy to do anything other than to go downstairs and make myself some eggs for breakfast.

My therapist, Miss Simone, is out of town too, so…

She told me to keep writing during our last session, though.

Let’s just go back to the questions.

2. Atmosphere at home.

Well, my parents have been at home for the past two weeks, since the accident.

My mom has been doing this work-from-home thing. Dad’s just been chilling. He’s not been searching for jobs and stuff.

The atmosphere is pretty quiet, I guess. We haven’t talked to each other much. I’m always the one who knocks on their doors. Most times, they don;t answer. Whenever we do, we just end up with Clara in our conversations. It’s annoying. My friends in school are nonexistent. They just completely abandoned me. And Mom and Dad did so too.

Like, don’t they understand that I need help?! I just lost my goddamn sister, and suddenly everyone’s like, “Bye, sucker!” Who does that!

And on top of that, they put you on a leash and send you to a shrink. I’m sorry, but all you have to do is talk to me!

Ugh.

I just want someone there for me.

​

I just want to be ok.

19.06.2026 6:30 PM

My sister keeps popping up in my head. It’s not just her face, it’s also stuff like her pastel pink sneakers. Or the cherry scent she always wore. Or her rough, curly black hair that I would always braid. Sometimes, I hear her saying “Oh, clam off shell,” something she used to say to annoy me because when we were younger and not allowed to swear and because I hated clams. 

Whenever I hear it, I always turn to my door. But she’s never there. 

Once, after I had taken a long nap and heard something, I turned around to see Mom at my doorframe. She was just staring at me. I don’t think she even realised that I was staring back at her. 

She probably sees Clara in me. In my slightly turned-up nose, in my wavy black hair, in my blue nightsuit, one that Clara and I always stole from each other. Mom would always hug us good night.

I wish she would do that now.

21.06.2026 1:37 AM

I cried yesterday for the first time since the accident. My eyes just didn’t stop. Even when I thought I was done, there was more. My nose is still stuffy and my eyes are a little red. 

But I feel good now. My parents checked up on me because of the, as my parents called it “whale noises”.

We talked, and I told them that I just wanted to talk to them. I cried some more.

For the first bit, they were supportive, well, as much as I expected from them (not much). Then, when I couldn’t stop my sobs, they shouted, telling me to shut up.

They gave me a long lecture on how they aren’t crying, so I shouldn’t cry either. That I should accept the fact that she’s gone.

They said I have to “deal with it.”

“Crying won’t help.”

As if whatever they said did.

LET ME CRY! IT’S MY FAULT ANYWAYS!

But I didn’t say that to them. It was the first time they had come to me.

21.06.2026 3:45 PM

I didn’t go to school today either. My parents were kind enough to allow me to do that.

I’ve been thinking about their words since yesterday. 

Maybe they’re right. I shouldn’t cry. It’s not going to help. Nothing is.

​

21.06.2026 9:47 PM

I was in my sister’s room at around 5. Her room was exactly as she had left it.

The walls were still covered in paint stains and random posters. Her bed was neat, the light blue pillows matching her wardrobe and curtains. Her desk was still chaotic in such a way that it looked like an art piece, with colourful school supplies arranged in messy rainbow lines.

The only pieces that didn’t belong on her desk were a small beige cotton sweater that hung on her chair and a piece of white paper that lay at the center of the desk.  

“How could you do this to me?! I trusted you.”

Those words were written in bold letters on the paper. The handwriting was sloppy and slanted to the right.

My handwriting. She had stopped talking to me, and to everyone else after I sent her that.

The paper had outlines of water drops where the paper is darker and flimsier.

She died because of me.

I killed her.

I killed her.

I killed her.

I KILLED HER.

​

1.07.2026 4:29 AM

I remember Clara’s wrist bleeding. It was about a year ago, around 2 AM, and I had gone to the bathroom to pee. She was there, trying to wash the blood away. The cut was so deep. There was so much blood. She said that I should never tell anyone. I didn’t. 

A few days later, I heard a creak in the hallway, one only my sister could make. I know the creaks everyone in this house makes. I tiptoed to her. She was in the bathroom again. There was more blood, but it was coming out of her left arm. When she saw me, she just started telling everything while crying. Like she never had before. I don’t know why she decided to explain it all then, but she did.

It had been going on for years, the phases with the “ monster in her head”. All the dark thoughts she sometimes had were constant then. Those thoughts led her to darker thoughts that went darker and deeper till she cut her skin to stop it.

Back then, I didn’t understand how thoughts could cut.

Why didn’t I understand it?

​

03.07.2026 2:29 PM

It’s our birthday today. My friends at school finally spoke to me to congratulate me. They still don’t know.

They said: “How old have you and Clara turned?”

For a moment, I forgot about everything except the fact that they were talking to me. I told them that we were turning fifteen while wagging my finger at Clara and I. But Clara wasn’t next to me.

She is never going to be.

All because of me.

All because she shrunk my stupid hoodie in the laundry, and I had to get mad about it and write her a hate letter even though I knew how she was. She had told me all of her darkest secrets, but I still wrote that stupid, stupid letter, and that stupid, stupid car came along, and she jumped into the street, and she was right there in front of me.

She was right there.

And I couldn’t save her.

It’s all my fault.

Writing isn’t helping. I think I’m gonna stop.