Pep Talk

You were supposed to solace your conscience on the page, first. While the intensity was fresh. The wound actively  g a p i n g.

Instead you erupted and squealed to your therapist. You pussy.

When the heat of your own actions comes to burn you, how dare you tuck your tail between your legs and scram for comfort.

Counselors are there to bolster your 'self-esteem'. She would never tell you what a REAL piece of work you are. For even if she knew enough to do so, her job would be at stake; and you are not worth it to her, rest disturbed.

How am I to keep you in check when you oust me as though I am some 'militant intruder' in your mind? As though I 'force you' to do that which you crave but lack the guts? Then blame me for your resulting moral dilemma?

Go ahead. Throw me under.

Sit in her plush chairs, dim the lights, and tell the patterns of her carpet all the ways I victimize you. Feel the relief her scripts are hired to induce.

I'll still be here, waiting.