my therapist.

Because of my therapist I'm able to articulate thoughts that would have been left unspoken.

The entropic conjuring of the "could have, should have and would have been" hypothetical scenarios arrested reality. The conjuring left me abandoned wandering aimlessly about my own way in a mind safeguarded with landmines.

I know the skies dawned on us a chagrin of broken dreams and misperceptions of achievements. I know when it rained, it rained blazing gunfire. I know those bullets shot and killed people left and right of me. I know I carried those images with me not knowing where they came from, and I know it was a problem. But what I didn't know was that before I had my therapist I was shot too. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, and like everyone around me I see that I'm falling into the same trap affected by the same chagrin of a poignant pursuit.

It wasn't until my therapist shared the burden with me that I started to find my peace.

Without my therapist I wouldn't have been able to convey all that I wanted say to move forward.

My therapist is the pen in my hand.

Without my pen I wouldn't have been able to convey all that I wanted to say to move forward.

Therapy manifests in a different form for everyone.

What is your therapy?

Who is your therapist?