if i believe you

me and my friend convince each other to go to therapy

in the blue room, she asks what i am afraid of 

and i tell her about the dark and the getting in my own way and the car trunk and the men and the wasps and the mirror and the falling falling falling i’ve been doing for the past nine years when i all i want to do is sleep. 

she asks if it hurts and i lie because that’s all i know how to do anymore. 

on the blue couch, she asks if i feel beautiful and i say i don’t. she asks if i’m tired of this and i say i’m sorry. she asks if i believe in god and i say i love the lightning and the thunder. 

in the blue fog she asks if i blame myself for any of it and i say i actually do believe in god. 

i say i know he’s out there somewhere. 

and that must be why i’m so angry all the time.