The Treatment

It's taken me all this time, all this loss, to realize what really matters is now.

Human beings are cruel creatures. And what we don’t understand, we tamper with until we destroy it.

We’re all guilty of hiding things—it’s the nature of the world today. We hide our feelings, we hide our pasts, we hide our true intentions. There’s no way to know what’s real anymore.

I fucking matter,” she tells Cas, her cheeks growing pink. “He has no right to tell me I don’t.

It's taken me all this time, all this loss, to realize what really matters is now. Not our memories.

I'm feeling so much and thinking so little.

We hide our feelings, we hide our past, we hide our true intentions. There's no way to know what's real anymore.

But I can't rewrite history. I can love only with what's left.

For a moment we knew what it felt like to be free.

But I can't rewrite history. I can only live with what's left.

You don’t matter, Dallas,” he says seriously. “You don’t matter the way she does and you know it. I love her. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.

His angry expression softens, and then he shoves my shoulder playfully. "Hey!" I push him back, to which he retaliates until I'm finally smiling. I love how we can do that--break through the misery to always find each other.

Dallas closes the leather case, set to store it away in her closet. She looks at the message one last time, memorizes it, and leaves the postcard on the table before she walks away. You matter.

Like my soul is wearing thin.

My eyes are trained on the trees, but my heart begins to race. “Maybe it’s time you try,” I say. I’m not in denial; I’ve always known Realm was hiding something. But now, here, I’m scared of what he has to say.

Years ago, when physicians didn’t know how to treat the mentally ill, they began shock therapy, and in extreme cases—lobotomies. They would poke holes in their brains, Miss Barstow. Human beings are cruel creatures. And what we don’t understand, we tamper with until we destroy it.