I make a face. “You know I hate this part.”
“I do,” she says. “And we’re doing it anyway. Because your brain has a running list of reasons for dying. We need a list on the other side or the debate isn’t fair.”
I look down at the blank section.
Last time, I wrote stuff like “Miguel,” “basketball,” and “my family.” It didn’t feel like enough.
Still.
I start there.
– Miguel’s laugh.
– Mom’s tamales.
– Pick-up games.
– The ocean.
– Movies I haven’t seen yet.
– All the books I haven’t read.
– Watching Martin make questionable life choices so I can judge him.
– Helping kids not feel like I did.
– The trip Miguel keeps promising to that ridiculous treehouse in Big Sur.
Dr. K’s eyes flick to the page. “May I?” she asks.
I nod.
She reads the list quietly, then taps the last line. “Oh my god, there he is,” she says softly.
“Who?” I ask.
“The version of you that can imagine being alive long enough to go on a vacation,” she says. “We’re going to keep talking to him.”
I swallow hard. “He’s squishy,” I mutter. “Easy to bully.”
“We’ll bulk him up,” she says. “Therapy gains.”
I huff a wet laugh.
She tears off the page and slides it back to me. “This is copy one,” she says. “We’ll make extras. One for your room. One for the fridge. One for your backpack. One for Miguel, if you’re okay with that.”
I picture Miguel finding the crumpled copy by the coffee maker, reading it carefully, thumb pausing on the Big Sur line.
“Yeah,” I say. “He can have one.”
Leaning back, she taps her pen on the armrest. “Last thing for today,” she says. “You’re doing a lot of ‘not dying’ work rightnow. Safety plans. Crisis skills. Monitoring. That’s essential. But I also want you to start thinking about something else.”
My shoulders tense. “What now?” I say. “Organs don’t count?”
“Something intentionally nurturing,” she says. “Not just staying out of danger. Leaning into being alive. A ritual. A practice. A future plan. Something that marks this as a pivot, not just a near miss.”
“Like… what?” I ask skeptically. “Start a gratitude journal? Buy some crystals? You’re not about to ask me to find God, are you? ”
