“Oh my god, why am I in therapy again?”
Those were the words that kept crossing my mind as I sat in the waiting room, with my hands shaking. I pretended to read the newspaper but I felt nauseous, and most definitely I needed to cry. For a whole year, I’ve been FINE. Now all of a sudden I’m depressed.
All day today I was super restless and I couldn’t concentrate. Then in Psych class I started feeling sad… I was just taking notes.
I have such a headache.
I resolved to make an appointment with my good ol’ therapist Dr. Bimbela. Coming back from 2pm I figured it was better to make the appointment sooner than later. The appointment time? 2:30. I didn’t have enough time to feel “prepared.” It was strange seeing him again… like a recurring nightmare, only not scary. Just… come on… it’s therapy! And I’m going again. I have an appointment scheduled for an hour next week and then half hour the week after that. It’s a time-consuming CHORE to be depressed. This isn’t what I need (the depression) right now.
Let’s just forget this all happened.
On the brighter side of life.
Last night Rona and I went to Aroma Bakery Cafe in the Valley at about a quarter to midnight. It’s this lovely classy-casual place where the patrons smoke their cigarettes, drink their coffee, sit seductively, and have a laugh. I did most of those as well; gotta fit in you know? Unfortunately Rona and I weren’t carrying our Djarums so we couldn’t pretend to be quite as cool as everyone else.
The valet man was a goddamn riot.
(If I’m having good times why the hell am I depressed? I still appreciate all the fun everyday occurences but… underlying all that I’m just frustrated at life!)
O hai still reading? Lemme tell you, Rona and I found the most potent butter uhm ever. No elaboration needed.