[ October 25 2015 ]
Dear Meg,
I didn't write yesterday.
I have an appointment with my psychiatrist every Saturday. I just had one yesterday, and had a breakdown when I came home. I didn't even know why I bawled my eyes out in my room for 2 hours last night. Probably because I didn't cry at all on Friday. I had to keep my vulnerability at bay.
The appointment went great, I told him I was feeling better, and,as expected, he believed it. He probably bought my bluff because he just wanted to get the session over with, and so did I.
See what I mean, Meg? Even the person who my parents pay to listen to me babble about my shit and to supposedly 'care' for me when my own parents don't, doesn't even bother.
No one cares about me, Meg. You probably don't anymore.
I don't even care about myself anymore.
Love, Dylan
YOU ARE READING
Dear Meg,
Short StoryDylan Shaw doesn't talk about his feelings, he writes them down. To his ex-girlfriend.
