soon.

lxviii.

̶ ̶ lxviii. A THERAPY SESSION.

a therapy session after a handful of pills disintegrate into my blood and with disappointment in her eyes, i tell her it's the lack of sleep that created the deep purple under my bottom lashes when she knows from how swollen my eyelids are that it's because i've been crying more than i should be. "crying is healthy for you," i joke, she doesn't laugh.

she asks me about my father, how he is. i ask her if my mother is paying for her to question about other people or me. she keeps quiet. i mumble fine. another lie.

she calmly says that my mother is paying for me to tell the truth because i can't trust her enough to tell her what's building up inside of me. i scoff.

it's in that sudden moment that everything within me explodes. my vision drowns out from tears even though my eyes are already irritated from the nights before. i look right at her, i search for a soul better than mine. "do you ever feel so much like a burden that every inhale aches more than the other? do you know what it's like to have a father who comes home without a warm hello and instead slams the front door on my mother and screams because the house is what he calls a disaster? have you ever felt so numb but so much all at the same time that you don't know how to comprehend what the actual fuck is happening with you? where a razor blade looks like your best chance at releasing whatever demon is crawling within your veins? where dying seems a lot more relaxing than living on?

i come here once a week without the right words to say how much pain and agony and frustration is built up inside of me and i can tell that you know i'm hurting and that you feel sorry for me because you don't know how to help me but i like to think that i don't need help, that i can save myself and i get so close only to fall off this cliff and the pit of my stomach drops and my heart beats louder and i wait for my bones to snap the moment i hit the ground but i never do."

tears carve themselves and make homes in the hollows of my cheeks. i look at the door, where my mother hides behind. "i don't want to be like this anymore but i don't know who i would be if i didn't feel this way."

[ the day i left my therapist in tears. ]