Feeling Myself

The term broken down. Shit that’s a term. So we sit here and these questions I can’t think about I have to answer them emotionally.
The fears.
The let downs.
The expectations.
The motivation.
The love.
The losses.
Relax. Just name things that come to mind.
I protect myself, so I project others…
The therapist is at work.
The honesty in the answers mist come from the stupid music she’s playing and the continued words “let your mind be free.”
I swear if I was thinking I’d be less open. But this is why I’m here, I’m here to embrace being open. Allowing myself to be.
Shit… These are not tears but again I need a hug and some tissue… Kleenex and this time she offers no hug, she just encourages the breakdown…

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