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#1
05-16-2009, 02:36 PM
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Therapy
Don't you just hate therapists? It's all bollocks, isn't it.
OK. Yes, I do have one. She comes at the most inappropriate times. Take today, for example. She knocked, and walked straight in! I was in the kitchen, hammering nails into my hand. She paused in the doorway. "Oh," she said. "Is this a convenient time to..." I looked up. "Oh, hello Anthea. Please, come in. I didn't hear you knock." She sat down, crossed her legs, frowned. "How have you been, Benny?" I began pulling the nails out. I placed them, carefully, by the side of my hand, each nail bright red and blood caked. "Oh, you know." "Yeah." She tried to smile. "That looks painful." "It's all right." She steepled her hands, pushed them under her chin. "Listen. Do you remember our last little chat? About your uncle?" "Yes," I said, softly. "Remember we agreed that he was dead?" "Yes," I said. "Good, good." She talked some more about how we were progressing, how things were moving forward. She spoke about how my coping strategies were doing, how I was feeling. I nodded and smiled in all the right places. She stared at me. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Benny. Listen, I have to go. This is just a passing visit. I have another appointment. I'll see you in a week, yes?" "Yes," I said. She stood. I followed her out into the hall. She stopped, turned to the door to her left. Turned the handle. "Is this the loo?" "NO!" I cried, panicked. "Oh." Her hand dropped to her side. "It's OK. I can wait till I'm back at the office." She let herself out. I lingered in the hall. When she'd gone, I opened the cupboard door. Three old women hung silent in the darkness, swinging, eyes glazed, staring, staring. i pressed a hand to my mouth, began to laugh, tears gusing down my face, my body shaking, trembling, my laughter growing louder and louder and louder, snot squirting out of my mouth and nose. I closed the door and went to bed. 
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#3
05-16-2009, 04:22 PM
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You might want to run that hand under some cool water. Saliva and snot can be breeding grounds for bacteria, and from the sounds of things you just got both all over your injured hand. A mild anti-bacterial soap and/or hydrogen peroxide will help greatly in preventing infection.
On a side note, you may want to tidy up around the house a bit. Certainly any liscenced therapist would be on the phone to the police emediately after witnessing your act of self mutalation. Obviously your murdering of old women and inflicting pain on yourself is a cry for help. I hope you find that help, maybe instead of laughing you should try crying.
__________________
"The physical body is acknowledged as dust, the personal drama as delusion. It is as if the world we perceive through our senses, that whole gorgeous and terrible pageant, were the breath-thin surface of a bubble, and everything else, inside and outside, is pure radiance. Both suffering and joy come then like a brief reflection, and death like a pin" Stephen Mitchell
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#4
05-17-2009, 10:23 AM
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This is not fiction, this is my life! I wish to g-o-d I was making this up. Though I'm NOT SURE about anything any more! Anthea isn't my therapist;I think now she might be a relation???? Oh god
why does this happen? Uncle Ferryweather asked me if I've had my pill today. I haven't had one in two whole days (2!!!!!!), that's why things are differeENTAnthea might be/is my sister. I don't know! She comes in, unannounced and says Things but I don't know who sheis! A changeling, no doubt. A sorceress! sORCERESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSERECROs 2waymirrors I shouldn't get this way, I need to take one step at a time, keep to the path (path of truth/lies?), one step-one step out out out the wilderness. Don't ook back. The wolves have the faces of my family. Trees whisper: memories that I've buried in a basement right in the back of my head. THEY come out to play: dance, piourette in the moonlight, jackals, wolves, bears, rats, SERPENTS They hold out my hand. I dance with them. Anthea is there. She's smiling and hugging me (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and I turn, and Uncle is there and so is Chadwick, cHADWICK the boy who lives in hte drains under the street and I feel loved and at peace peace peach fruit is the way forward. My mother's words. I bite into an apple and I see the world and all the pretty stars and the abyss. I am home. Goodnight.
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#5
05-18-2009, 03:21 AM
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No one cares.
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#6
05-19-2009, 02:30 AM
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Quote:
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