When I was younger my mother put me in this therapy group when I was a little kid. It had kids who were sexually abused and I made lots of friends with them. We colored and had positive talk in the circle. Each time someone left we colored them a picture, they got candy and some things when it was their time to leave the therapy group.

This was this boy. He was really nice to me, cute and really funny. We sat next to each other but I didn't touch him because he looked very anxious and he had so much sadness in his eyes. When he left and said goodbye, I actually got teary eyed and he hugged me. For some reason I think of this because I truly understood the things he felt and I loved his humor.

He sort of lightened up my life when I was younger and I wanted to thank him for making me laugh when I was sad during my moments in therapy. He left before I did and than he was going to a therapist. Before he left, he told me to take care of myself and that he'd always remember me. There's times where I still think of him because it was the first time I could ever relate to anyone who had PTSD.