Play Scrabble On My Legs

She is still everyone even though I don’t see her anymore. I haven’t officially stopped being her patient, I’ve just stopped seeing and talking to her. I am still in her care but she doesn’t know that I see someone else now. Actually, she’s probably worked it out. I haven’t seen her since February. I hoped to be doing better after my last hospitalisation  and I am sure she hoped for that too but it never happened so someone else had to take over. There are no miracles here.

The other one, Dippy, never bothered to contact me after I stopped making appointments. I will never return to her and she’s probably relieved about that because she never had the right advice to give me. She’s heartless. I hate her so much but would it kill her to at least try to make sure I am okay? Oh, Dippy, I am sorry you wouldn’t get paid for that.

I have spent so much of my life in offices with people like these. I have sat on so many couches and hugged so many cushions. I wish that I had been left to destroy my life when I was younger because now I don’t know how not to be a psych patient. There is nothing I look forward to.


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