It started off as a nagging feeling of loneliness. A little voice somewhere that pierces my bubble and decides to remind me on a sunny weekend spent with friends, ‘even with all this, you’re lonely aren’t you’
To my dad,
I’m writing you this letter but you’ll probably never get to read it because I’ll probably never send it.
I’ll never send it because I’m too scared that you’ll reject me. I pretend I don’t care. But your rejection would break me…
I’ve been in therapy for 2 years. And with my current therapist for maybe five months. I’m also training to be a therapist myself.
So I should have a vested interest in promoting the role.