I crave touch, yet I flinch every time someone is close enough.
Stand up sex is my new favourite thing ever.
The boy has talent.
My shrink wants me to ‘talk’ to him about thoughts and emotions, or write things down, from day one up to today about negative and positive events.
This task is causing me so much stress. I have NOTHING to share, or obvious emotion to express. It’s all just a haze, not bad, not good, and definately buried.
I hate therapy. I don’t cope like that. Dragging things up.
Don’t mess with my system.