Dear T

Sometimes it really saddens me that we can't be friends because you seem like the kind of person I would be friends with in real life. It is not a thought that disturbs me to the point where it adds to my depression. It's just a sad, missed opportunity.

After today's session, you are now officially the only person in the world who knows certain details about me. I thought it would be easier to look at you once I've gotten it out, but it's gotten even harder to look you in the eye. I'm not really sure what to do with that.

Life is exhausting. I wish things were better. I wish you would tell me that I'm being dramatic about everything and i don't need therapy anymore. But no, you refuse to tell me that.

I'm really terrified about how serious all of this actually is. I'm not ready to accept that this won't be a quick fix.