I don't see why everyone hates the idea of therapy so much.
Maybe I just got lucky, and didn't get a therapist who was such a bitch.
I don't know.
She never makes me talk about you.
Usually we talk about everything but you.
We talk about Mom, talk about the move, talk about how school has been, how Tracie is, how things are going with Aunt Clarisse, and pretty much about everything but you.
I don't mind it, because it helps me believe that you're still here.
