so going to therapy on a ridiculously hot humid day after smoking is a bad idea. i was really exhausted and burnt and didnt even feel like talking. so i didnt! it was a pretty quiet session, i cant even think of a single thing we talked about that i think is worth writing about.
oh, my therapist has an accent??!! why didnt i know about this?? there’s something wrong with me and my ears, maybe i watch too much tv but i cant pick up on accents until its really thick or im expecting it. we were talking about how i ask her questions she never answers and how im not really supposed to know anything about her. which is fine with me, i like not knowing, i almost prefer it. she asked me if i wonder about her and where her accent is from, to which i responded with, “holy shit! you have an accent?!” how did i not pick up on that?! apparently, she’s somewhere from europe, which im not supposed to know but im fucking sneaky.
after our session, i started walking east but realized i was gonna head home to brooklyn so i backtracked to take the F downtown. as i was walking back, my therapist was leaving the psychoanalysis center so i was walking a couple of feet behind her for 3 blocks. that was weird. seeing my therapist outside the therapy room, like a real person. i almost wanted to change my route but i just walked really slow until i lost sight of her. thank god she didnt see me, that wouldve been even weirder and i wouldve been super awkward.
