I see... Are you finished?” My therapist said, as she sat across from me in her

dark leather armchair as it shifted. Clicking the slick white pen in her hand. The

analog clock ticking louder and louder with every second, as the noise echoed off

the walls. I blinked. I had almost completely forgotten where I was, but my senses

remembered. I had to take a moment to process her question. I sat up, feeling the

dreaded curse of embarrassment course through me. Was I rambling again? Oh

geez, I must have been. Especially with how she’s looking at me right now. I've

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seen that expression so many times before, I didn’t even know what to say. I had

run out of excuses by now. Excuses to push away the possibilities that I might just

be crazy.

“Opps. Sorry about that, I didn't mean to ramble.” I said, nervously fidgeting

with my hair, as I adjusted my position. I was just starting to think that I've gotten

over that habit. Apparently not. My therapist sighed, just like she had a hundred

times before.

“Goodness child, you need to learn how to separate dreams from reality.

Otherwise you’ll neve be able to get anything done.”

“I-I can do things!” I sputtered out. “The dreams are daunting, sure, but it

doesn’t cripple me at the point of being paralyzed.” I desperately tried to defend

myself, though I don’t know who I thought I was fooling.

My therapist gave me a look that could melt anyone into a confession, but I

refused to give in my resolve. I turned away, trying desperately to avoid any

attempts at her trying to poke and prod at my brain. I didn’t even want to be here

in the first place, not like I had a choice.