Session One: November 3rd, 20XX
I need therapy.
I’m not that good mentally, I can admit that to myself.
I’m quite an anxious lass, to be honest.
Ever since my mother passed, it’s been hard to cope with the feelings.
These vicious demons, crawling up my spine.
Taking every part of my consciousness away.
Taking control of my body and my mind.
Making me do these things.
These oh so quite irrational things.
That I would never do myself.
I can do nothing but watch as my mind betrays me.
As my beautiful body causes nothing but destruction
And nothing but terror around me.
For a woman named Mrs. Blossom, she is anything but beautiful.
Hagrid face, hagrid personality.
Her eyes are bloodshot and her fingernails look moldy.
Yes, moldy. Like months-old bread.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she made my anxiety worse.
Her lackluster attempt at helping is pissing me off.
She’s a horrible excuse for a therapist.
I truly don’t understand how she got her job.
I wouldn’t feel guilty if she lost her job.
Or if she lost everything she loved.
Nor would I feel bad if she just croaked right here.
I wouldn’t feel guilty if I just kil-
Yes I would! Yes I would!
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.
I’m not going to think negatively.
I’m not dealing with that again!
Let me give her another chance!
Everyone deserves a second chance!
I’ll come back next week.
Session Two: November 10th, 20XX
I was right, as per usual.
Truly upsetting, but I guess that’s how life works.
This heathen did not deserve a second chance.
If I’m being honest, she didn’t deserve any chances.
But here I was trying to be kind, trying to be hopeful.
But, once again, she’s indifferent to my emotions.
She’s only here to receive her next check.
She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care.
She doesn’t care at all.
I don’t care either.
I’ll let her keep talking.
Wasting her breath with every word.
She can act like she knows me all she wants.
Like she knows what I’ve been through.
Like she knows the pain I dealt with.
Like she was there watching my innocence die.
But she doesn’t know me.
But I know her.
I know so much about her.
I know that she leaves here at 8pm.
She leaves in a gray coupe with 2 bumper stickers.
I know that her license plate is U8FX3R.
I know that she gets home around 9pm.
I know that she’s greeted by her daughter.
Her sweet, 8 year old daughter.
Her daughter that means the world to her.
Her daughter that she does everything for.
And I know that she’s gonna need therapy just as much as me,
If something happened to her.
I know her life would crumble if she found her little girl dead.
Suffocated by the stuffed animals in her bed.
Her blue face frozen with a look of fear.
Fighting for her life to no avail.
It would be a shame.
It would be such a shame.
Sure hope that doesn’t happen.