me vs. therapy

'how's life?'

'fine.'

'oh. i'd heavily sigh but my current bout with the cold has constrained my chest so much that it's hard to breathe. fines with you mean not fine at all.'

'i'm single.'

'oh boy.'

'yep.'

'i see. that would explain the puffy eyes.'

'and the lackluster spirit.'

'yes. and the old hoodie that is basically your woobie.'

'it's soft. it makes wiping my nose easier.'

'yes, woobies are good for that. well...what did you do?'

'i was me.'

'i don't understand.'

'i was me. that's what i did. too much me usually means running girl.'

'i meant what did you do after the breakup?

'oh. cried.'

'i'm sorry. i know how excited you were for this.'

'i'll just add it to the list titled Shit Angela Was Wrong About.'

'don't be too hard on yourself. it's not your fault.'

'really? ok, i'll blame the cats.'

Therapist frowns.

Satan giggles.

Frown at Satan. Satan stops giggling.

Look back at therapist, therapist says; 'you need to keep yourself busy'.

'wow, you must've gotten an a+ in therapist school.'

'angela.'

'what.'

'please don't take out your frustrations on those that are trying to help.'

'i'm sorry.'

'it's ok. anything else new...or happy?'

Blank stare.

Blank stare back.

Blank stare.

Blank stare back.

'ummm....i've started running again.'

'well that's positive!'

'yes. my knees aren't happy about it. i never thought i'd be one of those middle-aged dykes with the creaky knees. i feel like i need to chop all my hair off and dye it salt & pepper and buy some sort of subaru.'

'you just got a new car.'

'true. and it now has 342 sad songs loaded up on the flash drive ready to play at a moments notice as soon as i  reach for the windshield wiper and accidently hit the stereo on button and up pops at the loudest possible volume some phil collins singing seperate lives.'

'how long did you cry?'

'3 blocks. then i had to laugh.'

'or else you'd just keep crying.'

'correct.'

'how was work.'

'fine after everyone stopped staring at me and asking questions.'

'what did you say?'

'that i'd been maced by an overly reactive old lady with a cane as i tried to help her with her groceries.'

'did they buy it?'

'considering i got free lunch, free diet coke and a constant stream of sympathetic sad looks, no.'

'at least they try.'

'yes. they are a nice bunch. too bad we're all stuck in hell together.'

Look over at Satan, Satan lowers head wipes away tear.

Look back at therapist, say; 'when does it all fit into place?'

'when does what all fit into place?'

'life.'

'no one can answer that. sometimes it just does. sometimes it just doesn't.'

'i hope it just does.'

'i do too, angela.'