LittleTooMuch: Today was hard again, but we survived.
I feel proud of myself for building such a strong sense of trust with this girl. She trusted me yesterday, and she’s trusting me again now in telling me hard things about her day.
My thumbs hover, and I type slowly, taking my time so I don’t seem overly desperate to keep talking to her.
NumberEleven: that’s a win.
NumberEleven: a real one.
NumberEleven: i’m proud of you.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
LittleTooMuch: Don’t make it a thing.
I snort softly.
NumberEleven: i’m not.
NumberEleven: i’m just saying it.
Dots again.
LittleTooMuch: Ok.
LittleTooMuch: I’ll take it.
I feel relief for a second, but it’s short-lived when her next message comes through.
LittleTooMuch: Choices are still the hardest part. I think it would be easier if I just had one thing sitting out for me and didn’t have to choose.
I rub my thumb over the edge of my phone and type something steady.
NumberEleven: then fewer choices is a good strategy.
NumberEleven: one safe thing. low drama. repeat.
A pause.
Then:
LittleTooMuch: Low drama.
LittleTooMuch: You sound like you’re giving me a pep talk.
I blink, then laugh.
NumberEleven: i would never.
NumberEleven: i’m a poet.
LittleTooMuch: Liar.
NumberEleven: ok fine. menace with a decent vocabulary.
Her next message comes slower.
LittleTooMuch: I’ve never told anyone outside of my family and therapist about this.
