Page 17 of Rewriting the Story

It’s like she read my mind.

I grab my phone and swipe through my playlists. “Uh, they’re all pretty depressing, but I can make a new one and share it with you guys so you can add whatever you want.” I quickly send it to our group chat, all their phones buzzing.

“All depressing songs? Wow, I guess nothing has really changed,” Ella says, more silence filling the car as I try to brush off another hurtful but true comment.

“Yeah, that’s true,” I remind her. Nothing has changed, and yet everything has changed. “A lot more has changed than you guys think, but if one thing is for certain, it’s that my music taste is still the same.”

“I know, Amelia,” Paige says, her voice cracking. “You always did love a good sad song.”

I hum my agreement as she pulls it up on Ella’s phone, the first song playing off shuffle being one I added to the playlist.

Through the small hums I give, my shoulders feel slightly lighter than they did before I got in the car. I’m going to call this car ride a win so far, since the air has been partially cleared, I guess. I had to start somewhere, and I’ll take any win this trip wants to give me, no matter how small it might be.

“Ohmygoodness,”Paigesays as she pushes the door to our suite open. Four rooms connect to a main living area with a small kitchen and a table big enough to fit us and then some. I’ve never been in a hotel this nice, and I’m excited to be able to spend the next two weeks surrounded by the magic I once had with these girls. I know it still exists. It just got a little lost, but with the four of us back together, that magic is bound to come back.

“This is beautiful,” I say.

The doors of the room open to a gorgeous living area, with couches that look softer than anything I’ve sat on. A small kitchen to the right is complete with a table and stools under the counter. There's a sliding door that leads onto the balcony, where a hammock and a few other seats are arranged, looking out at the ocean. It’s bright, spacious, and I feel incredibly lucky to even be here to see it.

“Paige gets the room with the biggest bathroom because that’s where we’ll all get ready. I’ll take the room across from her.” Ella points to the door to the right by the kitchen. “Hads, since you’re the maid of honor, you can have the one next to her.” She stops to look at me. “You’re next to me, roadrunner.”

“Sounds good,” Hads says as she grabs Paige and pulls her in for a hug. “Should we rest for a little and then get ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, I figured we could eat at the hotel restaurant, so nothing too fancy. We should all be ready by six so we have a bit to check in with boyfriends and fiancés and squeeze a nap in before then.” Ella grabs her bags and wheels them to her room, softly shutting the door behind her. The rest of us do the same, and when I see the bed, I immediately skip unpacking and climb under the sheets.

Today has been exhausting, and not just because of how nervous I’ve been feeling. I used to beat myself up about how exhausted I would feel, especially when I had slept okay the night before—which didn't happen often. I was always really mean to myself when I would have to lay down or take a nap after doing simple housework or anything that shouldn't require as much energy as I thought I was exerting.

When I realized that was because of my ADHD, I tried to be a little nicer to myself about it. Dr. Elyse has helped me become more conscious of my behaviors and has tried to shift my mindset. I hated myself. I couldn't understand why simple tasks were so draining. I was mad at myself all the time because I felt so messy and disorganized when I wanted to be different.

Now, when I need to rest, I let myself. I’ve been trying to act kindlier over the past few months, but I still catch myself. It truly has been an everyday battle to try and reframe my mind to stop jumping right to how terrible of a person I am, or to stop blaming myself for the way I am.

I’ll be living like this for the rest of my life, unless my symptoms die down as I get older, so this is something I’ll have to live with. This is something I have to manage every single day, and some won’t be easy, I know that.

I’m trying to be better. Medication has helped. My routine has helped. Having a name for why I’m like this has helped too, but sometimes, Iworry the urge to run from every problem will come back, and I’ll cave immediately.

Dr. Elyse would say I’m stronger than that feeling now, but I still have fears about that.

Amelia, stop thinking like this before you spiral, I remind myself. I take a deep breath before I grab my phone and set an alarm in case I actually fall asleep.

There’s no doubt in my mind that all the girls are talking to their significant others, and since I don’t have one of those anymore, the short relationship I had in England fizzling out when I hit rock bottom, I’m all by myself.

I don’t know if I’m wired to be loved or in love with someone. I don’t know if I should even worry about romantic love, because I’m sure anyone would take one look at the mess I am and run the other direction.

I’m also only worried about repairing what I broke with the girls. Everything else comes second, third, or last in my book. I just have to remind myself I was loveable once. These girls love me somewhere deep down, despite them being pissed at me for what I did.

Platonic love has always felt stronger to me than anything else. It’s always been what I’m drawn to in books, movies, and any sort of media, really.

Except him.

I quickly banish those thoughts before I feel myself drift off to sleep. An hour later, my alarm is buzzing me out of a dreamless nap.

Somehow, I get ready, and before I know it, we’re all sitting around a dinner table, awkwardly deciding what we all want to eat. I don't know how we got here. The past few hours have been a haze of anxiety, and I wish my memory wasn’t so shitty so I could actually remember details.

“We’ll take a bottle of champagne,” Ella says, looking around at all of us before she orders a few appetizers. “We’ll just have those for now. Thankyou so much.”

The table falls silent as our server leaves, taking the menus with her. Now, none of us have anything to hide behind—physically, at least. I can’t pretend to read the same thing a thousand times over, and for some reason, I can’t bring myself to speak.

What the hell am I supposed to say? Anything I say will be awkward and pointless, because how do you catch up on this much lost time? Is it even possible? I can’t just burst out with all the realizations I’ve had in the past few months. It would be too much at once, and I don’t want to have this serious conversation in the middle of a restaurant.

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