Dear T:

I don't care if you get sick of me. I'm tired of this. I know you don't have to keep seeing me so why do you anyways?? I can't be a good client. I can't even barely do anything anymore. You can't fix this and I don't even care really. I just don't know wtf you want from me. You say "I just want to give you what you need." I don't ****ing know what you mean and I don't ****ing know how to tell you that.

I'm sick and tired of everything and I just want to sleep forever.

I'm mad at you for being there. I'm mad at you for caring. I'm mad at you because I imagine you only will care for a little bit longer and I can't predict when it will run out. I'm mad at you for not shaking my hand tonight. I'm mad at you for shaking my hand every week like clockwork. I'm mad at you for looking at me with compassion. I'm mad at you for seeing my pain even when I straight out refuse to see it. Im mad at you for how you seem to see right through me. I'm mad at you for being so ****ing gentle and caring with me like you were tonight while I raged inside. I'm mad at you for being a therapist. I'm mad at you for being ok. I'm mad at you for everything.

Sincerely,
Freewilled