silvia

v.

dear bella rue,

i went to another therapy session with janessa today. it was ok. it went something like this:

janessa: good afternoon, silvia! how are you this afternoon?

me: fine, i guess.

    [janessa writes that down.]

janessa: you told me last time that you went to jesse’s house again. how did that go?

me: it went fine.

janessa: what did you guys do?

me: we played grand theft auto v and we had a mini competition to see who could go the longest without getting killed. jesse won, but barely.

    [janessa smiles.]

janessa: that sounds fun, silvia. today, i’d like to talk to you about your parents, if that’s ok.

me: it’s not, but we’re going to anyways, so i’ll just say yes.

    [janessa sighs.]

janessa: how did you feel when your parents were still together?

me: unhappy, but not quite as unhappy as i am now, because dad was still there.

    [janessa writes my thoughts down.]

janessa: why were you unhappy?

me: i was born unhappy, janessa.

janessa: no one is born unhappy, silvia. they become unhappy for one reason or another.

     [i become mildly annoyed.]

me: well, i was.

janessa: ok, let’s move on. how do you feel now that your parents are apart?

me: numb.

janessa: i’m not sure if that’s an emotion, silvia.

me: it is in fact an emotion, albeit i’m not “comfortably numb”, as pink floyd is.

    [janessa writes my thoughts down again.]

janessa: for a person who is the textbook definition of depressed, silvia, you’ve got a pretty good sense of humor.

me: you think i’m depressed?

janessa: i think that you think you are depressed, silvia.

    [i don’t say anything.]

    [janessa also doesn’t say anything.]

i’ve barely had five sessions with janessa, and she already thinks that i’m the textbook definition of depressed, bella rue. what the hell is wrong with me?

sincerely yours,

silvia.