I talk about my family, I talk about my job. Of how sometimes leaving the house is difficult due to how hideous I believe I am, about how most of what I am is an act.an awkward little act.no Oscars for me.
I laugh at myself. since,this is all my fault. I cannot meet his eye.I am embarrassed,ashamed.I wonder if he thinks I cannot be helped..I’m sure he thinks I am pathetic.building huge walls around myself due to nothing much at all…
But, I don’t talk about Shaan.I cannot.I have chosen not to.up until today.I skimmed it.mentioned that “terrible things” were done.I build everything else up high enough to hide it.The main thing that brought me here.To Nick,the psychotherapist.unlucky enough to have me as a client? …patient??
How many times on paper have I transcribed the story.broken record that it is.too many.Sick even of it myself. I thought it was to purge.But I knew that it wasn’t.what i know,and what i think…schizophrenically different.
Snap out of it….
all this brought on by an Eminem song that I can’t decide whether is an atrocity, or…I don’t know…something else.because the words so ring true, and it had me feeling that feeling, made it feel fresh.but could it do that to someone who hadn’t been there?..is it like depression, you can’t truly understand unless you’ve been under that spell?
it has no power, no worth.unless it touches people.who have never been touched.