Talking to My Therapist

Thank you for everything that you’ve done.
Thank you. I love you.
Really. Yes. Why not?
No. No, I can’t.

I don’t need you.
Can you love a monster? No. You can’t.
You care. Sure. You sympathize. Yes. You pity. Right.

Why is it that every time I’m here,
I’m reminded of how cold-blooded of an animal I really am?

I don’t even see why I come to these places.

Oh? Really now?
What do you think of me then?

You’re right. It doesn’t matter.
I don’t need you. You don’t matter.

Why should you matter?

I have him.

He is all I’ll ever need.
His approval is the only one that I seek. He keeps me sane.
He is the only one who knows where my box really is though.
He is the only one who has the key to the lock, didn’t you know?
He is the only one I would ever consider to be worthy.

I guess we don’t really matter to each other then, me and you.

What are you still doing here?
I’m right aren’t I?

I know I am.

What are you doing here again?
I’m doing just fine.
Why do you call?
I told you, I’m doing great.
I’m fine. You can go.

Bye now.

Why am I still talking to you?

~ March 24, 2010