Therapists Are Wrong

My therapist said,

“What you think are your flaws

should in no way give you pause,

cause every insecurity there ever was

must be embraced because

- you see,

what we think is wrong in us;

the way you address stress and obsess

to impress and profess some finesse

you think you possess,

the way you cuss and mess

when you play love like it's chess

- it's no flaw, it's a strength!

You're not needy, you're passionate!

You obsess because you don't give in to fate!

No, no – it's not a debate.

I hate seeing you in this state,

You pay me an hourly rate to set you straight.

Your words merely don't translate,

it's him that can't appreciate.”

When I was younger

I was a victim of this exact delusion.

I lived under an illusion

That love has to be the conclusion

to any story – so imagine my confusion -

My shock when heartbreak would knock;

When I realized the only way to block

any hurt was to lock myself up, round the clock.

I can't even walk a few blocks

without having my heart crushed like chalk

by some cocky jock from Bangkok.

All along,

I thought they were in the wrong.

I told myself to bear the pain, to be strong,

sing another 'Fighter'-esq boy-bashing song.

A lifelong throng of 'run along', 'so long'

'One day I'll find someone with whom I belong',

But it wasn't long

Before I started turning introspective.

Who am I from their perspective?

Behind a facade deemed attractive

Were there native qualities so repulsive

that if they told me, I wouldn't even believe.

Am I supposed to keep going on,

basing all my dreams upon

some fantasy I've drawn with crayon,

that I'm in fact not some moron

with every shred of common sense foregone.

It finally dawned

That fawning over any brawn

Killed my ability to differentiate interest from a yawn.

Maybe it's my problem for blinding my own reason

with the weight of expectation,

for wanting heaven before date number seven,

for desiring so much that I completely lost touch

of the reality - that we live in a world

where things aren't just handed to us.

Where we're harassed in this circus

of vicious strangeness,

navigating without a compass

through this wondrous darkness.

When did life become a pursuit of ice-cream and orgasms,

where freedom gives way to outcomes of threesomes.

When we learn words like scrotum and condoms,

Does sex become the anthem we parade in our kingdoms?

I've heard it said that 'you deserve better',

but who's left behind, or does that even matter -

aren't we're all just picking up pieces the previous shattered?

It's not you, but it's also not all me,

we're all fucked up in ways we can't even see.

You're a dick of the highest degree

Yet I'm a dick for being your devotee.

Maybe one day we'd both agree

to cease this self inflicted murderous spree.