The problem with writing a poem every day this month, is that I keep writing them about therapy and about how I feel like it's time to start talking endings even though I really don't wanna. I mean come on. You're going to be 66 next month. You're going to retire at some point, I assume. Maybe not right away, but at some point, you will want to. Also I mean for heaven's sake, therapy was never supposed to be forever anyway! It's been 4.5 years. 4.5 years!! How did that even happen?! And yet it's like you've become a part of me, so how am I supposed to just let you go?! Yes I have found much healing in this relationship. But damn it all, I continue to hate it for what it's not. You're always on about how it doesn't work without the love. But it's a peculiar kind of love, it's a finite love that exists in a stupid bubble of the therapy space and that just frankly sucks. So why is it even allowed to be called any kind of love?! I protest. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know it's all been to help me learn how to love myself - I f'ing get that - but. Still. Whatever. I guess I just need to figure out how to smoosh the love I feel for you down into that same magic little bubble so it only exists for me too when I have a session. Then I will be able to say goodbye. Okay I am done ranting now.