I’m trying to go to therapy again, not because people are telling me to go, but because I’m running out of options.

Writing poetry and longboarding only soothes my demons for so long.

Years and years of ignoring them, allowing them to eat away at me.

Here I am, attempting to follow through again, although im afraid that doctors are going to eventually give up on me.

I’m sitting here in the waiting room, nervous as though I’m going to receive bad news.

After the appointment:

15 to 20 minutes later, I barely had time to talk about the issues that are behind my depression.

The medical or whatever student, asked me so many questions and I answered them.

So unuseful.


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