"After the crash, I-" Maya paused trying to formulate exactly what she felt, and why she felt it. Differentiating what was her, and what was the depression. A line that was blurry on the best of days. "One of my friends was in a coma, he'd woken up and was recovering. My ex and my friends had all moved on, but I was- stuck. They were happy, and all I did was drag them down."

And it was my fault, that the crash even happened.

This wasn't the whole story, but even taking into account that he's a therapist, which meant she trusted he was used to this. Some burdens she just couldn't talk about so quickly. Some things lingered deep in her heart and it took serious effort for her to carry them to the surface. But, she needed help, and at least the immediate 'do not relapse and try to kill herself' was the more pressing matter anyway. "Bad things keep happening around me," because of me, "And I couldn't help any of them, all I did was make things worse." By existing.