Jesus this hurts
I don't want this pain
I think of where I could be
Should be
And where I'm not
Take it away
Please let it stop
This is why
I don't give the real me
The pain
Is too much you see
I don't feel in the surface
I feel in my soul
I don't give Charlene
I don't give Nicole
This one time
Since him
The one who got away
I gave
I gave
Like him
You didn't stay
Oh but like him
You see
You didn't leave
You stayed I stayed
How could you not see
So much more
So much more
I needed from you
I tried so hard
To ween myself off of you
Jesus
God
Just help me sleep
To awake
Move on
And find someone
I can keep.
At this point I have to ask, is therapy really working? I've been in therapy on and off since I was about 14 years old... maybe one or two years younger than that. That being said, I never really got much out of it in the teen years because let's face it, as a teen you really don't want to cooperate with any adult, let alone a "Shrink". I would go and talk about nothing of importance, pretending to sleep when it was my mother's turn to come in for the session with me. How this woman knew I wasn't sleeping was beyond me. I did what I was required to do and got my Doritos every time I went, so I was happy. Looking back at my first session, I can see the pattern that started even way back then. I have the hardest time finding competent therapists. Let me explain, from the moment I read an article in Teen Magazine about depression, I basically diagnosed myself. My being in therapy wasn't even the result of my mother thinking I had depression; it was bec...
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