I want to die. I can’t believe I disclosed all of that to you. You did nothing wrong, but I feel pathetic because I paid you to tell you about my stupid trauma that I’ve never told anyone before. I don’t even know if you care. I hate myself. I don’t know how I’m going to get through today. I wish I didn’t feel the need to share my traumas with someone because then it wouldn’t matter and I wouldn’t wish I was dead