My psychiatrist was dressed in blue pants and a red t-shirt this time. I don’t like red but I still liked him a little better because he didn’t confuse me as much when he wasn’t wearing black that maybe was the wrong black and maybe not.
He wanted me to tell him about real dad again. I didn’t. He must have never had a dad because if he had he would know that you can’t just ask someone about their dad.
He asked me about other things too, like colours, and I told him that I like black because when it’s black you don’t have to see anything. He asked me why I wouldn’t want to see anything and then I knew that he never had a dad.
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Historia Corta"There are lots of lies in this world. Lots of horror and darkness and torture and hopelessness. But if I got the opportunity to remove one of them the answer would not require hesitation. The answer would be simple, short and without regret. Take a...
