Dear New Therapist,

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Once again I'll fiddle my thumbs and awkwardly described to you my past 14 years, in high hopes that maybe you'll fix me. But all I can expect is an increase in my medicinal dosage and maybe a rose or two that you picked  just for me from your garden of pity.

More and more paper printed  a dull green wasted on your shit judgement and all I can do is nod my head in flimsy agreement because I've got to last the summer. What a glorious way to spend my time when I could be healing at the bottom of a swimming pool, or at  the knotted end of a particularly heafty  rope.

So tonight I'll  flick off the lights and listen to the crickets whilst I waste breath,  just to see you again when the Sun rises.

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