Therapy?

Oh shit, yeah?

 

It takes a few seconds, if that, to have an ‘oh yeah’ moment; whether it is mid-convo, a passage in a book, snippet from a podcast or a verse from your favourite track. The words resonate, providing a slight sense of relief.

 

I guess I don’t know it all.

 

A deity knows all, and I’m no deity. I’m human, a man flaunting his case knowing he dare not verbalise his plea. And, that’s why we love our quotes, our memes, and affirmations. We share that we provide a relationship and a shoulder to lean on. We are the ear and therapist. We share that we’ll always be there, while apprehensive of who’ll be there for us.

 

Oh shit, yeah?

 

Our words dare not suggest we be a deity, yet our actions fail to disguise our plea. We have things patterned, running on a tightknit schedule designed to fulfil our desires. We are of service to others through our relationships, our work and our art, our forms of expression. We are the change we yearn for, expressing our truth for the betterment of others. We never stop.

 

I guess I don’t know it all.

 

We are aware of our truth, expressive with its difficult nature for a shot of bliss tuned relief.  A notable desire yet we dare not verbalise our plea. We act as an example for others while we yearn for the change we desire. We too require a relationship and a shoulder to lean on. Have ears listen to our pleas, our desires, without us being of service.

 

Oh shit, yeah?

 

Get a fucking therapist then. Or, at least try one out. Create a day in your tightknit schedule for yourself, to waffle and have someone else figure out your shit. Be vulnerable and expressive with a professional and stop being a little bitch. Your relationships will not end, you are still an employed mentor, and a one to one session will not stop you from writing or acting. You have to firm that seventy pounds a session and embrace the unknown.

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