All I Remember Is Walls Of White Essay
“All I remember is walls of white.” Then as if a painter was making an abstract art, splashes of red. I never tell her this, and by her, I mean my therapist, Ms. Carol. I never tell her what I really saw that night, or the events that had occurred before then. I just sit in the chair, staring out the window. I get lost in watching the cars outside drive by, and I can not help but wonder if they have a sad story. I bet most of them go home to the same life they have always had before: dull and boring. None of them probably have to sit in a chair, and rehash the same old story to a therapist that is broken in her own way, hence the Ms. before Carol.
"Joshua?" she asks. It 's the same every Thursday. I stare off into space and she brings me back to the harsh reality of the world. I take my time in not looking at her. I look everywhere around the room, except at her. Just like every Thursday, no different from this one, she calls me out on it. "Joshua, everyday you tell me the same story, but from what the police have said in previous reports, don 't match up."
I stop myself from rolling my eyes. My teen days are over. I 'm nineteen and I have been in counseling for awhile. What 's expected of me is to act responsibly like an adult. I had stopped counseling for sometime, but here I am with the same counselor and sitting in the same chair. It 's all for one reason and one reason only, and that is so I can get custody of my kid sister.
I haven 't been able to see her,…