I hate you for going on holiday. Holiday! What the hell is this?! You said you love me and now you are swanning off with that dashing butch girlfriend of yours. Urgh. I don't know who I hate more: you, her, or me. Holiday. I can't believe it. I won't see you for two weeks and one day after tomorrow. Well, screw you lady because I have booked a session with another therapist who also has grey hair in order that I can rat you out for saying all that love shite! Ha! You aren't the only maternal substitute around here!! Checkmate!

Urgh. She's not you.