Post number something

I don’t remember what number this is.


I had my first appointment with my new therapist today. Her name is Monica, and she’s really nice and all, but she keeps giving me gifts. She gave me a bunch of mechanical pencils last time I was there to see if she was “the right one” and now she’s given me felt pens and glitter pens. And can I just say: I have no idea what to do. Do I tell her she’s making me uncomfortable or what?

Going to the therapist is actually really hard. You have to awkwardly avoid eye contact with the other people in the lobby who you know probably have issues. And it’s clear that they’re totally judging you, but it’s sort of okay because you’re judging them too. There’s also that awkward moment when you make eye contact with someone who also sees your therapist, and you have to smile and hope they don’t engage in conversation. But of course they won’t because they’re anti-social and awkward too, and they probably hate people just as much as you do.

The point is: talking about your feelings is pretty hard. My therapist is trying to get to know me while telling me about herself as well, and I guess it’s working. I opened up a bit. I actually want to get better. If you don’t want to get better, you wont. You’ve gotta work towards it and find motivation. Oddly enough, I’ve found my motivation to do stuff in youtube videos of people my age cleaning their rooms. It’s comforting to know that yes, their rooms are pigsties as well, but also that they fixed it and sped it up while adding really cool techno music. So I’m just sort of sitting her like: “Oh, I can do that. I should work out too.”

Whatever works man. I’m rolling with it.

My self-esteem is still at ground level, which sucks. I wish I could channel my internet confidence into my daily life. I’d be the most bomb and awesome person I kid you not. I’d be kicking down doors and prank calling the police and all this crazy stuff. I’d be getting boyfriends and curling my hair and I’d actually have friends.

((I’m kidding I’d bee exactly the same, only sometimes I’d make a witty comment or really, really stupid pun.))

((And I’d probably have friends.))

Not the point.

Anyway, see a therapist man. If your parent or guardian is offering to take you to one, or you are an adult who makes your own decisions, you can get better. Things can get better. Find motivation, see a therapist about your issue. Freaking dominate man. I believe in you, which is saying a lot because I believe in absolutely nothing. Not even myself.

((I low-key do believe in myself but that will end as soon as my minor spurt of will power dies down.))








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