me vs. therapy

Trudge to therapist.

Pull in parking spot, shoot heroin, throw needle in back seat, high five Satan, get out of car.

Walk in, fill out paperwork.

Escorted to empty, dark office.

Flop on couch.

Proceed to look bored.

Therapist walks in.

Narrow eyes.

Therapist begins with typical inane questions.

Answer with lackluster enthusiasm.

Therapist sighs, says: "this session will prove more fruit full if you answer honestly and directly"

say: Blank stare.

"you don't seem interested in confronting yourself."

Yawn.

"are you going to talk, or shall we end our time together."

"can we just get pizza and a beer together?"

"no, that would jeopardize my position as your therapist."

"what if i buy?"

"angela, i believe you are making jokes to hide your true nature."

"therapist, i believe you are correct. how about taco bell?"

Sigh...."sometimes, when we are afraid of getting hurt, we shield ourselves with jokes and deflection".

"or food...don't forget the food!"

"you're single aren't you?"

"i don't get it."

"listen, why don't you just start with an area that's been troubling you."

"well, ok....it itches a lot down here and whenever I scratch...., oh you mean mentally?"

Nod.

Sigh.

Recite drawn out description of recent and not so recent events that shaped personality disorder into monster-sized monkey on back.

Therapist nods, writes notes.

Sneakily peer over notebook to examine notes.

Therapist narrows eyes, shakes head.

Sit back, feel 10.

Wait for therapist's end of session assessment.

"it appears to me that you are not accepting the reality of thesituation. Instead focusing on time wasting activities that solvenothing and guarentee future disappointments."

"no shit? that's the same thing my mirror tells me every morning and it doesn't charge."

Therapist smiles.

Smile back.