My therapist talks too much.

My therapist talks too much.

I wanted to set a comical/happy tone and mood which is why I wrote ‘happy poems‘ and now this. Why did I want to do it? Tomorrow, this blog will be a year old and so, I have a few announcements. That’s why! Do drop by tomorrow at 12 pm (GMT). Enjoy this fictitious piece, meanwhile! It is one of my favorites.

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“You’re poetic, you know?” I told my therapist, who was a forty-year-old single mother. Her husband had committed suicide thirty years ago and her PTSD is what drove her to help others get better.

“I do. I wanted to be a poet when I was eighteen,” she smiled.

“Are we going to talk about you now? I’d genuinely prefer that,” I said because I’d do anything to escape talking about my broken heart.

“No. Tell me about him,” She said and I did. I went on and on for twenty minutes telling her things about him that made no sense. I told her about how he’d meditate for half an hour and enter a phase where he would only talk about technology. He would press his head against the window pane at night and read short stories to the moon so that the moon can sleep well. He loved shopping for clothes but never for himself – he would often buy oversized shirts for me and tiny t-shirts for my dog. I told her about how he would listen to slow songs and become nostalgic about the times he’d danced to EDM with his friends back home. I told her about things that made no sense. Really.

“Give me his number after the session?” She asked and giggled. “Why did you break up?”

“We did not. We never dated, actually. We just became really good friends, I fell in love with him and then one day, like an army officer on call, he moved to another country. I’m still here, though. Left alone to deal with something that never actually happened. Help me?” I sighed right after telling her about this very tragical ending of something that never was.

“Here’s my take on it, Zaroya. Like a dog chasing its tail, you’re stuck in a loop where it just isn’t going to happen but you still want it to. You’re not nostalgic or sad because that happens when you realize something is in the past. You’re right there in the last moment you spent with him. Dogs never actually end up catching their own tail. Don’t worry, we’ll get you back.” She said and I had a wide grin on my face.

“Well, metaphorically and literally speaking, you’ve never seen my doggo.”

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Related post: The story of the trees.

Also, shout out to Zaroya (blog) who let me use her name! What a beautiful name and a wonderful human. ∞

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