me vs. therapy

‘have you been on any more dates since our last session?’

‘i don’t need dates, i need love, love…to ease my mind.’

‘excuse me?’

‘i need to find, find…someone to call mine.’

‘supreme’s fan i see.’

‘catchy little tune, isn’t it?’

‘yes it is. and it holds a lot of truth.’

‘no. i haven’t been on anymore dates.’

‘why not?’

Shrug, say; ‘i’m not really motivated.’

‘ok. so what have you been motivated to do lately?’

‘well, i go jogging a lot and i’ve been reading a whole bunch, watching movies, eating, playing video games and waiting…anticipating…’

‘for that soft voice, to talk to you at night?’

‘yes. and those tender arms…’

‘to hold you tight?’

‘it’s kind of hard not to say it in a sing-song voice isn’t it?’

‘kind of. so, we’re not getting far today i see.’

‘no, no, i’ll answer. i’m just keeping to myself mostly. i mean, my friends take me out and that’s cool. i think i’m just kind of boring to be honest.’

‘enjoying quite activities alone doesn’t make you boring, angela.’

‘it doesn’t exactly make me a rock star either.’

‘do you want to be a rock star?’

‘well, they get lots of girls and glue to sniff.’

‘it’s not glue they're sniffing and the girls probably have herpes, at the very least.’

‘no, i really don’t want to be a rock star. i like being in bed in my jammies at seven in the evening, scowling at the black ink on my fingers from the book i’m reading.’

‘books smell good, don’t they?’

‘they do. but now that i’m old they sure hurt my tendonitis.’

‘a book isn’t easy.’

‘no it ain’t easy, oh no it ain’t easy but mamma said you can’t hurry love.’

Therapist sighs.

Look over at Satan, Satan stares at therapist, therapist glares at Satan. Look back at therapist, therapist looks away from Satan. Look back at Satan, Satan blinks. Both look back at therapist, therapist shakes head heavily, sighs again, says; ‘nooooo, you’ll just have to wait.’

‘isn’t that fun!’

‘fun is a relative term.’

‘hey, at least i’m smiling. i haven’t smiled in your office in a long time.’

‘well no, of course you haven’t, because of all those heartaches you had to stand…’

‘hopefully i’ll find a love, that lets me live again.’

‘do you think your blog readers are tired of dianna ross yet?’

‘possibly. maybe we should move on.’

‘how’s work?’

‘let’s move on in the opposite direction.’

‘how’s the weather?’

‘uh, the weather is the same as it is here since i live in the same town as here is.’

‘it was the fastest question that came to my mind upon your demand to ask another question.’

‘well, it wasn’t a very good question. you should have better on-the-spot questions ready.’

‘oh, so you have a list of on-the-spot questions all ready?’

‘yes.’

‘ask me a question.’

‘how’d you get that scar on your forehead?’

‘how is that an appropriate question?’

‘you didn’t say my question had to be appropriate.’

‘angela, you can’t ask questions like that.’

‘why not?’

‘it’s rude.’

‘i’ve known you for years. i think knowing where the scar on your forehead came from is totally appropriate since i stare at it every session wondering where it came from.’

‘it’s personal and i don’t feel comfortable answering.’

‘well that means you got it during sex.’

‘time’s up.’

‘ha! i’m right or time wouldn’t be up because we totally have what…like,12 minutes left.’

‘i can’t hurry love, angela. but i can hurry you.’

‘good one. fine, i’ll go…but just remember this-i know your scar secret now.’

‘out.’