Syke

I woke up late, pissed about waking up late
I hate waking up late, especially when I have ten minutes to get to the bus and I hate riding the bus
I went back to bed
Went to the pyschologist at 9 am
My dad took me, on his way to the Ymca,
my little brother had swimming lessons in an hour
and he kept telling me something about how I could clean the hamster's cage if he got a hamster
But maybe that was the other day, on the way to work

I like the office of the counselor
I started to read a great magazine story about a lady who might have killed her baby with the same name as me
walking down the hall she smelled like cigarette smoke, I lied to her about smoking and wished I hadn't
especially if she smokes
I can't be honest with anyone

I leaned into the corner of the chair,
"so what happened since the last time I saw you"
"nothing"

Why do I bother going, I'm wasting an hour
So I force myself to start talking, telling her things
I feel like she's storing everything I say, building, shaping her opinion of me
I feel like she doesn't like me
I said bad things about feminism, then I felt like i had to justify why I said them, stumbling, backtracking
"don't worry, it was just a question"
well fuck

I'm constantly recieving lessons on safe sex
I don't mind, I keep forgetting that she isn't my mother
I'm allowed to tell her about the random boys, how horrible I feel
she suggested maybe I have all these open ended relationships because
I'm subcounsciously looking for approval from my dad
well fuck

I'm silent most of the time
looking at my legs, putting on chapstick, detailing her desk in my mind
crossing my legs, looking at my legs, more chapstick
she looks uncomfortable too
well,
fuck