It's cold out here. Cold, okay? I'm thinking about my Mellow Yellow fingernails and my Air blue toenails while sitting on the deck with the tiki torches lit and drinking Golden Monkey and chain smoking.
Babies, I've seen a new therapist for two sessions. Babies, I've been reading xoJane like it's my new Jezebel because it is. Cat's back. No, I'm not going to start one of my "I don't understand the ladies" rants... as easy as that might be.
What was I going to start? (Are you my lady doctor, "my lady"?) I had the horrible realization today, while talking with her, that I've been here before. I think she likes me, for the usual reasons: I'm smart, I get it... But I don't. That's why I'm there. I know. But I don't. It's the same old song and dance. Me me me me me. The same me from 2005. The same me from 1999. The same me who knows what to do but is too afraid to do it.
I was sitting there today thinking, "HELP ME", knowing the whole time that only I can help myself. So I listed off my 4 main reasons for being there and she said something like, "well, you're here to make yourself stronger, so you can make these changes." We've talked about all 4 of my issues in two 50-minute sessions. Now what?
Stare off into space.
That's how I talk about important things. Staring off into space.
"Does [this happen]?"
"... No ..."
"Does [that happen]?"
"... No ... Eh. No. Not really."
Hmm. I get the feeling she wants drama. I tend to downplay things. Yet dream the drama.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!"
It's not that.
Two nights a week. "Two."
"Do you think you could commit to only [doing this thing] twice a week?"
"I could..."
"Will you?"
"I will."
Knowing I was lying the whole time.
"We should keep you broke."
"Ha, ha... ha."
"You should write about it." Journaling she said. Fuck me. I do. And it's always the same thing, over and over again.
"Bring it," she said.
She just found the key to my heart.
Oh, I will. I will bring it, sister.
Babies, I've seen a new therapist for two sessions. Babies, I've been reading xoJane like it's my new Jezebel because it is. Cat's back. No, I'm not going to start one of my "I don't understand the ladies" rants... as easy as that might be.
What was I going to start? (Are you my lady doctor, "my lady"?) I had the horrible realization today, while talking with her, that I've been here before. I think she likes me, for the usual reasons: I'm smart, I get it... But I don't. That's why I'm there. I know. But I don't. It's the same old song and dance. Me me me me me. The same me from 2005. The same me from 1999. The same me who knows what to do but is too afraid to do it.
I was sitting there today thinking, "HELP ME", knowing the whole time that only I can help myself. So I listed off my 4 main reasons for being there and she said something like, "well, you're here to make yourself stronger, so you can make these changes." We've talked about all 4 of my issues in two 50-minute sessions. Now what?
Stare off into space.
That's how I talk about important things. Staring off into space.
"Does [this happen]?"
"... No ..."
"Does [that happen]?"
"... No ... Eh. No. Not really."
Hmm. I get the feeling she wants drama. I tend to downplay things. Yet dream the drama.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!"
It's not that.
Two nights a week. "Two."
"Do you think you could commit to only [doing this thing] twice a week?"
"I could..."
"Will you?"
"I will."
Knowing I was lying the whole time.
"We should keep you broke."
"Ha, ha... ha."
"You should write about it." Journaling she said. Fuck me. I do. And it's always the same thing, over and over again.
"Bring it," she said.
She just found the key to my heart.
Oh, I will. I will bring it, sister.
