ABSTRACT
This one time, my therapist asked me to take everything out of the box and put it on this big table. I didn't know what was up. But I did. Then he asks me to go outside with him 'cause he wanted to show me something. We go outside and I'm thinkin' this dude must be crazy and he's finally showing his true ways but then he takes me to this window and asks me to look inside. He asks me what I see. It's the window to his office. I saw my clothes, my football that I stopped playing with, the pictures of me when I was a boy, the paintings of me now, all my papers where I wrote about the abuse, my ribbon from the science fair, the clothes I wore that night I was raped, the pictures of me from the doctors from my cutting and stuff. And I had pictures I painted of who I was before, who I was now, and who I wanted to be. I saw my dream journal-I saw me. I was fuckin' lookin' in the window and I saw my life, not just the abuse part but my life. It started raining but I didn't want to go inside. I wanted to keep looking in that window. I was crying, not sad tears but tears because I thought who Kip was and who Kip wants to be got lost. But they didn't. They were right there in the window.
