Me: So….when do I start?
Dr. Me: Whenever you want Mr. Falco. It’s your money, not mine. (adjusts glasses)
Dr. Me: How about this, lets start with why you are here.
Me: Uh huh?
Dr. Me: WHY ARE YOU HERE?!
Me: OH! Shoot! Sorry🙂 Well, I’m here because I have a problem. I’m not sure what the problem is, or where it originated, but I know it’s there.
Dr. Me: And how do you know it’s there, Mr. Falco?
Me: Because I feel different. Because normally my head isn’t so fucked up. Wait, can I cuss?
Dr. Me: You can do or say whatever you want Mr. Falco, this is your therapy blog session.
Me: Ahh… okay.
Me: For some reason I feel all weird. As if I’m not myself.
Dr. Me: Not yourself? How can you not be yourself? Mr. Falco, that is an excuse. Every action you do, whether you are making a PB&J sandwich or murdering a hooker, is yourself.
Me: Well yea but —
Dr. Me: Are you suggesting that an evil demon has entered your soul, and is controlling your actions? Is that why you’re not yourself Mr.Falco?
Me: Okay asshole, I get it. Let me finish
Dr. Me: (sips coffee)
Me: What I was saying is that I feel out of my element. Something is wrong and I can’t understand why. I’ve been feeling very irritable, incredibly bored, and my general interest for life has seemed to die down.
Dr. Me: Have you tried masturbating?
Me: Is the moon round? OF COURSE I’VE MASTURBATED!
Dr. Me: SHHH! Will you calm the fuck down?! You’re going to wake every–
Busty Betty: ..wha…what’s going on? (rubs eyes)
Dr. Me: See what you’ve done? You’ve woken up Busty Betty, ya dumb ass!
Me: Ugghhh, fuck. Hi Betty (forced smile)
Busty Betty: Hey Mr. Falco, what’s wrong?
Me: Nothings wrong Betty, just go back to bed.
Busty Betty: I heard something about masturbating. Is somebody masturbating?
Dr. Me: Nobody is masturbating! Now go back to bed!
Me: Wait…why is there a girl with big tits, in this story?
Dr. Me: I don’t know! It’s your story. Maybe you’re horny?
Dr. Me: *Ahe-hem* Please, continue with your story.
Me: Hmmm…where was I? Oh yea. Okay, so basically I feel like shit, for no reason.
Dr. Me: Is something going on in your family?
Me: Yes, actually. My brother is causing a lot of drama and what not. But that’s not it.
Dr. Me: How is your love life?
Me: What love life? LOL!
Dr. Me: (sips coffee)
Me: jeez…Well my love life fuckin sucks. There’s NO ONE!
Dr. Me: No lovers? No sex? Not even a girl you find cute?
Me: Well of course there are girls I find cute. Shit, I see them everywhere!
Dr. Me: Then why don’t you pursue them?
Me: Oh yes! That’s a SPLENDID IDEA! How about I go up to every cute girl, and just butt fuck her in the —
Dr. Me: Don’t get smart with me!
Me: Well what the fuck?! Do you expect me to just pursue every goddamn–
Dr. Me: No, but I expect you to at least consider. AGH! Nevermind (sips coffee)
Me: I mean, I have a lot of cute girl friends. Girls, who are friends, that is.
Dr. Me: Any hopefuls?
Me: Nah. I mean sure, I’d love give em the ole “in-out-in-out” but I would never. They’re cute as hell, but they aren’t like that.
Dr. Me: So you have no love life, you have no normal life, and your family life isn’t too hot. Is there anything else in your life that isn’t going down the shitter?
Me: ….come to think about it… I don’t know.
Dr. Me: How about your friends?
Me: The guys? Well they’re all doing great. I mean we all have our own shit to do, so it’s hard to get together.
Dr. Me: Are you sure?
Me: Ok, well mainly it’s because I’m too bitter to call them.
Dr. Me: Why are you bitter to call your friends? They grew up with you. You went to High School with–
Me: Yea, but you don’t understand. It’s just different. We’re just different.
Dr. Me: Okay…Next subject: How are your blogs going?
Me: They aren’t. I haven’t been able to write in weeks. I’ll stand in front of the screen, gazing into a white abyss, and nothing will come up. I’ll write for a good five minutes and then POOF! I’m fucked. Writers block up the ass.
Dr. Me: What kinds of things have you been trying to write about?
Me: Uhh…I tried writing a song, a poem, a blog about Black girls, a blog about AZNLover.com, and some other shit. But my ideas always tank, leaving me disappointed. I just end up on Youtube or something.
Dr. Me: Maybe your inability to write anything is due to the fact that nothing in your life, as of now, is giving you inspiration. Have you ever thought about that?
Me: Ya know? You’re right. I think I should start doing more things.
Dr. Me: You have a Salsa class for the next two nights. Why don’t you write about that?
Me: Ya know, I was actually going to write about that! I think I should.
Dr. Me: You should.
Me: After I write it, do you think I’ll feel better?
Dr. Me: I don’t know. I’m just an imaginary person you made up, in order to vent out your problems.
Me: Yea… this is kinda sad.
Dr. Me: But who else were you going to talk to about this?
Me:…no one. No one at all.
Dr. Me: Goodnight Mr. Falco, I hope you feel better.
I’ve boarded the crazy train.