Cry, baby, cry

The photo above is it’s a collage of horses that my therapist’s daughter drew and I stare because there’s something magical in kid’s minds and art and there’s nothing sadder than when your inner child cries through your adult eyes.

I’ve cried like a baby in the last three sessions and like in a watercolor painting, the salt from my tears gather the pigment from the barriers I painted as protection letting the pain flow from my past and turn into anger in my present.

Everything hurts and I can’t stand it anymore, I cry while I hit a cushion with a racquet, try to stop when I feel I’m going to vomit. He encourages me to continue while getting the trash can… what a lovely therapy session and fuck somatization.

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