I pulled out my journal and wrote my darkest thoughts. I hoped that getting them onto paper would help. I’d probably share them with Doctor Mercer. ... locked it away, got undressed, and fell into bed, hoping for a dreamless night. It didn’t happen — the demons returned.Sunday I woke to the alarm. I had managed to get back to sleep after the nightmare, but slept fitfully. I was going to be tired. Not good with a full day of yard work ahead.I spoke to Dad again about the therapist and said I was. " I promise, too." 'Okay', here we go. Get comfortable. It's a long story. It started when I had just turned fifteen. I was interested in girls, but they weren't too interested in me. I'd go out on a first date, and then when I'd call the girl back she'd be permanently unavailable, for some reason, I couldn't fathom. I finally asked my Dad, for help. He listened very carefully, and told me he would do what he could. Then nothing more from him. A couple of weeks later, I had just gotten into bed. More

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