If The Voice Inside Your Head Were Your Therapist

10/16/17

            “Thank you for making it in tonight for our 1AM appointment. I’m happy to see you.”

            “I didn’t have a choice – I’m always in, aren’t I?”

            “Too existential. Let’s not go there. But; you’re sitting alone in your room and I feel like now might be a good chance to delve into a bunch of your past mistakes!”

            “That’s really not–”

            “Before we begin, can I ask how you’re planning on paying for this session?”

            “…I – I don’t…”

            “Relax. It was a joke. You like comedy, right? I have that written down from one of our first sessions.”

            “I love comedy. In fact, I’d much rather be watching a funny TV show than having this little pow-wow. Netflix has a new–”

            “Not so fast, kid. Remember how awkward your first kiss was?”

            “…Yes?”

            “So – don’t you want to rummage through your mind to recall all of the embarrassing moments you’ve ever faced and analyze how they affect your life currently?”

            “…Well, no, but–”

            “–But you’re going to!”

            “Oh no. Even the really old memories?”

            “Why not? Just because the first rejection you ever faced from a boy was in Kindergarten doesn’t mean you don’t carry it with you twenty years later.”

            “You’re right. Why am I still thinking about chasing Cody around the playground hoping he’d one day turn around and chase me back?”

            “Because you’re an insecure little bitch.”

            “Whoa!”

            “Okay, sorry, not professional.”

            “Wow! Super uncalled for!”

            “I know. My apologies.”

            “But, like… okay, I am insecure. And I think about the Cody thing a lot.”

            “And why do you think that is?”

            “Like you said, it was the first rejection from a boy that I can remember. I guess it serves as a jumping off point for all boy-related traumas.”

            “Speaking of boy-related traumas–”

            “­–No–”

            “–Let’s talk about AJ.”

            “Oh, god… from middle school? I’d really rather not reminisce about that time in my life.”

            “It’s on my list of talking points so we’re going to get to it eventually. I thought it might be smart to work chronologically this session, don’t you agree?”

            “I haven’t actually agreed to any of this.”

            “Of course you did. You signed a consent form.”

            “…More comedy?”

            “I’m hilarious! You know it!”

            “Stop.”

            “Okay, so – AJ. It says here in my notes that he cornered you on a class trip to the beach and… oh no, and your friends put him up to it?”

            “…Yeah.”

            “And you didn’t have any sort of romantic feelings for him?”

            “Nope.”

            “And he – oh gosh, he asked you to be his girlfriend on the spot by writing the words in the sand?”

            “There was some sand-sculpting involved, yes.”

            “And you were on your period for the third time in your life and had no access to feminine products there on the beach surrounded by fellow 13-year-olds and teachers?!”

            “Why are you phrasing all this information as if you’re asking real questions?”

            “To make you confront all of these uncomfortable memories for evaluation! That’s what I do!”

            “But it’s so late, can’t I just try to sleep?”

            “Of course not! This session is bound to continue for the next hour at the very least. So, your response to AJ?”

            “I told him I’d go out with him.”

            “Even though you didn’t want to?”

            “Yep. I was surrounded by people and exhausted and scared.”

            “And then it says here that you, whoa, you avoided him for a month – even missing another big class field trip – and then ended things with him over the phone?”

            “It was the best course of action my anxiety-ridden brain could come up with.”

            “Wow. Harsh.”

            “I was thirteen.”

            “But you weren’t thirteen when you were thrown off a bus in college for being too drunk, causing a commotion that got your best friend kicked off as well.”

            “That was – you skipped high school?”

            “We can go back and talk about high school if–”

            “No! College is fine. Let’s not backtrack now.”

            “Alright. So – you threw up on a fire hydrant?”

            “I did.”

            “And your best friend, who is your height and weight, had to physically carry your five blocks?”

            “So I’ve been told.”

            “And how often do you think about that?”

            “…Five time a week, maybe?”

            “Yeah – You’re trash.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing. So you were drinking too much to forget about the two-year relationship you’d just ended? Sorry, there was a smudge on the paper – a two-year relationship that your boyfriend had just ended?”

            “Can we not–”

            “And that means your boyfriend dumped you, correct?”

            “…How did you misread that sentence in your notes?”

            “So he dumped you and you self-medicated with alcohol. Very healthy for an underage ingénue like yourself, huh?”

            “I’m starting to get a more hostile vibe from you.”

            “And you partied and drank and slept around and your friends had to continue to carry you home.”

            “I–”

            “–And you haven’t been able to maintain a stable, fulfilling relationship in four years because of all the insane baggage you have from this supposed phase in your life that you constantly use as both an excuse and a crutch. Would you say all of my notes are correct?”

            “…Fuck.”

            “I know.”

            “I– I’m gonna listen to a true crime podcast now.”

            “What? No! Time isn’t up yet!”

            “Yes it is. I don’t want to do this anymore. Here’s my check for this session. Take it so I can go.”

            “But – but you’re not handing me anything. I’m a figment of your imagination.”   

            “Well, I guess you’re not the only comedian in the room.”

            “…Ah – hahaha, you got me!”

            “I did!”

            “So we’ll pick this up again when you’re in the shower tomorrow?”

            “Oh yes, unfortunately!”

            “Alright, good luck sleeping!”

            “Fuck off!”

            “Sounds good!”