After session No. 4

You have, once again, been waiting for me. Smoking.

   I find myself greeting you with a spontaneous smile. I am most unwilling to scan through your feelings, so instead I ask "Ηow are you?" and you proceed to tell me all about it. "Good, just a lot on my mind right now" is your choice of words in your choice of sequence. My eyes. Do I want to go home? Do I want us to drive through the warm air? You turn on the engine, I hop on the motorcycle, we speed through the traffic.

   I beg you not to make me feel guilty and ashamed of my progress, my thoughts. I'll share with you what I've discovered. Encourage me to explore more of me. You hate me. You resent every minute I spend in that room. I understand, but you have no right. It's not about us, move your lips all you want and frown to show your dislike freely, but I will not prioritize these irresponsible insecurities you give off in your breath.

   I chose to hold your hand in all your struggles so far, at least I think I have. I loved you without fear and deeply. If you can see how unable I am to live, extend your hand to me and be there. Don't scare away. You are needed, you are wanted. My therapist told me to look for my mirror and so that's what I'm doing now, I guess. She helps me, keeps me oriented, my spirit is more peaceful than before. Can't you see I'm shifting? Forms unstable, liquidated into dead skin flakes falling off my body.