Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken.

Noise machines. Brief and quiet stares. Forced tomorrows. Magazine pages flipping between nervous fingers. Sips of water to drown the sorrow. --- Here I wait. For my therapist to peak her head from her purposely decorated office. Impatiently waiting to hear me utter the news of the past week. Watching the clock tick it's tocks. … Continue reading Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken.