New therapist says, “You are very good at avoidance, aren’t you?”  New therapist says, “You deserve to feel things.”  New therapist says, “Your feelings are valid.”

She says she feels she is talking to a wall.  She says, “There are glimpses of you sometimes, but Salix [the image I project to everyone] crowds them out.”

She says, “Think about a real flower and a fake flower.  Sure, the fake flower is always the same, but the real flower is so much nicer to see and smell and touch.”  I say, “Yeah, but the real flower dies sooner.”  Then I laugh and apologize for ruining her metaphor.  I tell her I understand what she means.  But I am not a flower and the real me is in fact much worse than the fake me.

She says, “Why do you feel guilty?”  I tell her it is because I am a bad person.  I feel I have to atone for something.  I don’t know what.

She says, “Why are you bad?”  I don’t know.  “Any murders in your past?” No, of course not!  Though my next-door neighbor once let his pet hedgehog starve to death.  I knew he was irresponsible.  You could argue that my ignoring that fact and not checking up on the hedgehog was indirect murder.

She says, “You were just born bad?”  I don’t know.  I think people are born blank slates.  Tabula rasa and all that.  I don’t remember ever not being “bad”.  Of course, I don’t remember much of anything from my childhood.  I have always felt inherently bad.  So maybe, yes, I was born bad.