Dear Doctor

I wanted to tell you many things today. There is some change I want to make, but now I'm scared again. There is a change I've already made, but I decided I couldn't tell you. There are revelations I've had that I think you'd find stupid.

Dear Doctor Gerstein, I wanted you to know something but I don't think you'd listen.
Dear Larry, I'm frightened of tomorrow. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to leave empty handed, sotospeak.

I dislike getting rides after therapy because during that ride I forget everything that happened, and I'm left with this strange feeling that I can no longer explain. And when I'm on the bus I can look as sad as I want, but not in front of you, family. God forbid I look weak in front of you.

GOD! GOD, why is this happening?

I should be angry! I should be so pissed about the things you all have said! But instead of that, I just feel terribly sad. Why is it that you all communicate about the things that are wrong?! Why, for once, can't you communicate when something important happens, like I figure something big out and tell you, or something like that... I'm not SCARED to be HAPPY. You dumbass...I don't carry this knife around because I'm scared of happiness! I carry it for the exact opposite! Why are you...just...I feel so uninvolved! You all writing notes to each other, except for Larry because I've never seen him write anything down ever, deciding things without me. About me. Go to hell, honestly.

Just go to hell.