Paused Emotions

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A/N: Comment if you feel like school is an option and your mental health is surprisingly really good right now. Vote if all you do is eat food and binge watch movies and tv shows😎 (I feel and do both things so:-). Here's your early update, enjoy! 🤍

Angelica

"If I were to talk about what happened that night it wouldn't be fair to anyone else because I haven't told them."

The woman looks at me with her glasses on the tip of her nose and her eyes trained on the book in front of her. She grabs the book and puts it on the table between us. I stare at her confused, she eyes the book.

I pick it up, it's not a book. It's a journal.

"I want you to write."

I haven't written in a journal since...forever.

"Write what exactly?"

"Poetry, for me. I'm a fan."

I don't write poetry anymore. Nor do I like it. It's too personal too invasive.

"I'm not sure I can do that for you."

"Why is that?"

I can tell she's trying to pry, she's a therapist after all. "I lost my touch."

"That's hard to believe. I've read your poetry book, where the sun loses its light. It was beautiful."

I wrote that over a year ago. I didn't think anyone picked it up, ever. "That was the only copy."

"And you donated it to a used-books book shop."

That I did. "What did you like about it?"

"The way you write about pain. It's very real. I wanted to ask you some questions about it."

"You're not a journalist, are you?"

She smiles, "I would make more money with that job wouldn't I?"

I nod slowly, "What questions do you have about it?"

Maybe she really is interested.

"How does someone so young," she moves in her chair, fixing her dress, "15 at the time, am I right?"

I nod. "Write something so painful. It hits deep."

I shrug, "I had that talent."

She leans forward, "Whatever you're feeling right now. Express it in the form of words."

Words have the power to destroy me and make me vulnerable. "I'll try my very best."

"I'm gonna read whatever you have next week. Even if it's just a word, I want to see something written down."

So literally write down anything and just hope she won't judge me, great. I can do that. "Is this how therapy usually works?"

She shakes her head, "My tactics are secretive. Every Therapist has their own way of talking to clients."

"How long have you been doing this?"

Her eyes shoot up in surprise, "Usually, when people come to me for therapy, they know all about me and my experience. I've been doing it for five years."

"Not enough to trust you, then."

"My job isn't to get you to trust me, it's to help you trust yourself."

She does sound like she knows what she's saying, and she has a way of shutting me up.

"Is this all for today or do we need to go over how much I hate the world?"