My friends and family forced me to do therapy, though I don't think it helps. I walked into my therapist's office and I sat on the chair in front of him.
"Good morning Matthew." he said. Though I didn't speak. A look of concern came upon his face. there was a moment of silence between us until the silence was yet broken.
"Listen Matthew, I know you don't like our therapy sessions, but I'm not your enemy. I'm here to help." he said sighing. But yet, I didn't conjure a single word. Yet again he spoke,
"Ok, did you at least take your medication?" I nodded slowly still not saying a word. He then sighed and asked,
"Good, are your medications having any strange side affects?" I then replied.
"I'm still having nightmares that are too horrific to describe, I'm still haunted by memories of my past, and I'm living in a shithole, MY PARENTS DON'T LOVE ME, I CRY UNTIL BLOOD COMES OUT MY EYES, AND YOUR FUCKING METHOD OF IT IS GODDAMN DRUGS!!!!" I was panting from screaming, though my therapist didn't say anything. I started to sob, he then walked up to me and said,
"I-, our session is over for today. You can go home. I wont stop you." I then got up and said with my voice breaking,
"T-thank you." and I left the office.