Day one of 'therapy'... It wasn't all that great. I got there a little before 8am and began working on paperwork. 638 questions and $5,836 dollars, I slowly dragged the pen across the paper, literally signing away my mind and soul. With that bit of ink went my psychological liberty and perseverance. Already I can feel my energy slipping away.

I'm almost kidding, hah. It isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I got there, hob-nobbed with the clerk and the main psychologist there, then was shown into the main meeting area where I became acquainted with the characters I will be sharing in this treatment process with. The eventual time came to display my mind out for the group to view, and it was just like all the other sessions that I've had. With a blank face and sparse grins I proceeded to shit my soul across the carpeted floor. It's not like it was all that large of a bother. I viewed it as merely another crowd that got to partake in my original sin.

One thing really bothered me, though. In a session with my new therapist later in the day, I began explaining to her the situation about my 'love life' and the overbearing burden of idealistic love and a depth-deprived mind I'd acquired at Judson. She sat back for a second and then said, "Wow, you're really in love with her, aren't you?"

That scared the shit out of me. No one has ever acknowledged that, before.

"...Yes," I agreed, showing her my evident surprise.