Don't bare your soul to strangers
A little piece of fiction for your Monday.
Street Therapy
“When I see someone in a neck brace, I want to scream, ‘Hey you!’ so they turn their head and I get to see the pain in their eyes.”
“When I was little, I set fire to the neighbor’s puppy. I can’t look at dogs at all now.”
“When I talk to my mom, I’m OK, but if I text her, I get a raging erection. That’s not one of those Oedipus things, do you think?”
“If you don’t stop, I’m calling a cop,” the woman on the bus-stop bench hisses. “Leave me alone, you freak.”
I get up and walk away satisfied and alive; I can usually get people to listen to my shit for a good five minutes before invading their comfortable sensibilities and leave swiftly before entanglements with the authorities arise.
And it beats the $250 an hour my therapist charges uptown.
Street Therapy
“When I see someone in a neck brace, I want to scream, ‘Hey you!’ so they turn their head and I get to see the pain in their eyes.”
“When I was little, I set fire to the neighbor’s puppy. I can’t look at dogs at all now.”
“When I talk to my mom, I’m OK, but if I text her, I get a raging erection. That’s not one of those Oedipus things, do you think?”
“If you don’t stop, I’m calling a cop,” the woman on the bus-stop bench hisses. “Leave me alone, you freak.”
I get up and walk away satisfied and alive; I can usually get people to listen to my shit for a good five minutes before invading their comfortable sensibilities and leave swiftly before entanglements with the authorities arise.
And it beats the $250 an hour my therapist charges uptown.
Comments
Hope alls going well with the stuff you're dealing with...been thinking of you...
JC