(xз」∠)一

Therapy? But I’m not messed up, you say with your well practiced straight face. 

Oh?

Let’s pretend. Let’s pretend you’re trapped in a tight balloon.

“why am i trapped?” you ask yourself.

It’s dark, but you’re comfortable. It’s warm, but it’s getting hot. It’s safe, but you’re running out of oxygen. 

You’ve no memory, and don’t know who or what you are.

But somehow, you know it’s time to leave. Before you have a chance to start looking for a new place, walls constrict, squeezing you. How can a space do that? And to you? Loyal tenant for your entire life. You’re losing oxygen fast; you’re powerless. You feel a hand grab your head and start pulling your limp body through a tunnel. You can hear the pained cries of a soul on the other side. Your mind is racing like a trout-out-of-water. You’re trying to figure it out why this is happening. Sure, you didn’t pay rent, but how could you? You don’t even know what money is. Now you’re a lumpy mass fighting for life, air, dignity, and answers. The screaming on the other side gets louder…My god, they’re torturing that poor soul, and you’re next. You’re dripping in natural fluids, confused; this is what dying is…. Strangers pull your naked body out. You take your first breath…

WELCOME.

This is everybody’s entry into the world, and if that isn’t a traumatic experience, I do not know what is. I’m not going to go into the ineffectual coping mechanisms every other person and their moms proselytize. Coping mechanisms are just that, they help you COPE with life, they don’t help you LIVE your life. So. Go. To. Therapy.

oh if you don’t like therapy then go to church, go to temple, write a book, do self-therapy with multiple resources.