Therapy, therapy, therapy. Oh what a place to be. You think you’re doing alright so you don’t go for a while and you end up back in the chair again. I always hate meeting with a therapist for the first time. You sit across from them and tell them your life story, opening up and letting the vulnerable spill out. I hate the awkward tears and the look they give you when you know their minds are busy trying to asses you. 

I always feel like such a mess when I go. Wondering if I’ll ever “get better”, if I’ll ever be a healthy person for others to be around. As I sit here and listen to the rain on the roof, I wonder why life turned out the way it did. Why do I still hold a lot of regret and hurt? There’s so many things I wish I would have done differently, so many individuals I wish I could apologize to. So much to look back on, but hopefully more to look forward to. Just want the broken to be fixed, the cracks to be smoothed over.