The campus of Skyland Gardens stretched over several blocks of the city. A main building housed the visitor's center and the majority of the rooms used for group therapies, as well as the offices of the clinic's many therapists. From there, a path led through the campus's titular gardens, winding through flowers and art projects before forking into walkways towards the recreational annex, the greenhouse, and the residential area. It was in the last of those that Sour Sweet waited for her friends, having found a comfy enough chair beneath the wooden awning lining the outside of most of the building.

Spring was giving way to summer, and with it, the days grew warmer. In the days leading up to the girls' visit, Sour Sweet had gone back and forth with her personal counselor about whether she should wear a jacket. On one hand, of course she was ashamed and embarrassed of the scars that littered her left arm. On the other, her counselor had said, hiding them only reinforced the belief that she should be ashamed. Sour Sweet had enough reasons to hate herself, most of which she had yet to process, but this one, she had decided with a little encouragement, was something she could push back on.

They'll think I'm ugly. They'll see and be uncomfortable and wish they'd never come to see me—

No, don't spiral. Stay in control, not for the sake of others, but for herself. Feelings didn't always line up with reality, her group leader had said, and while it wasn't Sour Sweet's fault for having feelings like that, it was up to her to identify them, check the facts, and do her best to turn her mind towards feelings that were more effective.

The process didn't always feel good. Sometimes it really sucked, if she was being honest. But she had a good reason to keep going, even when all the skills and terms and everything else felt too overwhelming. Sour Sweet thought of the paper she'd brought with her, the words on it, and the sweet girl who'd given it to her, and resolved for what felt like the thousandth time to not let this thing in her head keep her from the life she wanted.

It was a dialectic, she realized, like so many others her group therapist kept talking about. Her scars might make her friends uncomfortable, and, they could still be happy to see her. One didn't cancel out the other. Contradictory feelings existing together, sometimes separate and sometimes not, best understood not in opposition to each other, but as part of a greater whole.

Her friends would feel bad when they saw her scars. They would be happy to see her. Both ideas could exist, because they were both rooted in the same truth: her friends cared about her, and they wanted her to be okay. Sour Sweet held firmly to that thought as, at last, she spotted Sunny Flare and Sugarcoat coming down the path to the residential area.

Sunny Flare was the first to wave, her pace picking up a bit as she did, and Sugarcoat wasn't far behind. Sour Sweet stood to greet them, only to nearly fall over when Sunny Flare hugged her as hard as she could.

"It's so good to see you!" Sunny Flare said.

Sour Sweet lightly hugged her friend back. "I'm happy to see you too," she whispered. Sunny Flare hugged her a little tighter, and beside them, Sugarcoat rolled her eyes—but never lost her smile.

The girls found chairs on either side of Sour Sweet, and the three of them settled in the shade of the awning. More than once, Sour Sweet caught the movement of their eyes, little stiffenings in demeanor—with her scars uncovered, both girls saw them easily enough, and—

—They hate looking at them. They hate looking at them because—

—Because they cared about her. Sour Sweet took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and opened her eyes.

"Thanks for coming, really," Sour Sweet said. "Dad and Saccharine have stopped by every few days, but… It's nice to see you again."

"Oh, Dean Cadance asked us to say hi for her," Sunny Flare said. "She said she can stop by with your graduation stuff, if you're okay with it."

Sour Sweet nodded. "That's nice of her." Graduation had been about a month after her breakdown, only a week after she'd started her treatment. "I'll think about it."

"Sorry we didn't come visit sooner," Sugarcoat said. "We wanted to, but your dad said we weren't allowed."

"Yeah, the visitation rules are weird," Sour Sweet said. "It's like, family only for the first few weeks, then I can have friends visit so long as I keep up with my groups and stuff."

"And how are those going?" Sunny Flare said softly, meeting Sour Sweet's gaze. "Is it, y'know, helping?"

She came all this way, I need to give her an answer she'll be happy with—

—Or she could be honest about how she felt.

"Kinda," Sour Sweet said, staring at the grassy yard on either side of the path. "Mostly I've just been learning a lot. I'm still new to all this therapy stuff, I guess."

"So are you feeling better at all?" Sugarcoat asked.

Tell her what she wants to hear—

"Not really," Sour Sweet sighed. It was an unhappy truth, but it was the truth. Was it the whole truth, though? Sour Sweet thought of her sister, of the words on the paper Saccharine had given her, and added, "But it'll get better. I know it will."

"That's good," Sunny Flare said. Tears lined her eyes as she put a hand on Sour Sweet's shoulder. "I'm really proud of you. I can't imagine how hard this is, but you're here, and you're working to make it better."

Sour Sweet looked her way, and smiled. It felt real. "Thank you," she said. "A-and, uhm… I'm really sorry. About, y'know, how things went at my dad's place."

"Don't worry about it," Sugarcoat said. "We were never mad at you, dummy. Just worried, y'know?"

Sour Sweet sighed. "Y-yeah, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry."

"What'd I tell you about no sorries?" Sunny Flare told her.

Sour Sweet didn't know how to respond to that without another apology, so she just nodded.

"So like—and you don't have to answer if you don't want to—" Sugarcoat waved a hand— "but what's wrong with you, anyway?"

Immediately, Sunny Flare reached over Sour Sweet to smack Sugarcoat on the arm. "What the hell, Sugarcoat?" she snapped. "Have a little tact!"

"I'm just asking!" Sugarcoat shrugged. "So I can better understand, y'know? And be a good friend and all that?"

"It's okay," Sour Sweet said. She took a deep breath, remembering what her counselor said—a diagnosis was nothing to be afraid of. It didn't define her, and there was no shame in sharing it.

—But what if they think—

"It's called borderline," Sour Sweet said the words before the fear could catch her. "It's like this emotion regulation disorder, like all my feelings are always dialed up to eleven."

"How do you feel about it?" Sunny Flare asked.

"Honestly, not as bad as I thought I would," Sour Sweet said. "I already knew something was wrong with me, but now that I know it has a name, and it's been studied, and there are ways to treat it… It's scary, but at the same time, at least I know I'm not just crazy?"

"That's really good." Sunny Flare smiled at her. "You're not crazy—you just need some help, that's all."

Sugarcoat nodded. "So is it like a genetic thing?"

Sour Sweet shook her head. "My counselor said it comes from a few things, and that can be part of it, but it's mainly caused by, uhm… being abused as a kid."

"Oh." Sunny Flare paused, taking Sour Sweet's hand. "What… What, uhm—"

I can't tell her, what if Mom finds out and comes after me—

"My mom," Sour Sweet said quietly. "She's… not a very good person, and she never really liked me. And she let me know that in a lot of ways." Saying any of this felt like inviting God to strike her down with lightning, but it was the truth. "She always assumed the worst of me… I think it's like, she said and did so much bad stuff when I was little, that she taught me to not like myself, either, and now I'm always scared everyone else will treat me the way she did."

Sunny Flare hugged her again. "I'm sorry you had to live through that," she said.

"Yeah," Sour Sweet sighed. "Me too."

"At least she can't hurt you anymore," Sugarcoat said. "So how long are you gonna be here for?"

"It's a three-month program," Sour Sweet said. Three months that felt as if they stretched out towards infinity.

"We'll keep visiting, if you'll let us," Sunny Flare told her. "Whenever you want, okay? Good weeks, bad weeks, boring weeks—you let us know, and we'll be here, soon as we can."

"Y-you really don't have to," Sour Sweet said. "I know it's a long time—"

"We want to, dummy." Sugarcoat nudged her with a smile. "You're in, like, a big mental health place, of course we wanna check up on you. Make sure you're doing okay, y'know?"

Sour Sweet couldn't bring herself to look at either of them. Even in treatment, she made her friends worry. Shouldn't she feel bad about that?

Of course I should, I'm inflicting distress on people who care about me because I'm too much—

…Or she could be grateful, she realized. Grateful that she had people in her life who cared about her enough to worry when she wasn't okay.

Sour Sweet sighed. "I think… I think I am starting to feel better, actually."

At that, Sunny Flare reached over and hugged her again. After a pause, even Sugarcoat joined in.

Sunny Flare hugged her a little tighter. "Even on the days when you don't, you're still our friend, no matter what."

Tears welled up in Sour Sweet's eyes. A small sob left her, but it was a happy thing. She smiled—a real, true smile—and let herself fully sink into the embrace.

No matter what.

Author's Note

This story was inspired by my own experiences with borderline personality disorder, prior to getting treatment. If you feel like the emotional patterns displayed in this story are similar to your own, I highly recommend asking a mental health professional about Dialectical Behavior Therapy. It's life-changing in the best possible way.

Thank you for reading