• I'm seeing a therapist on Tuesday. 
• Feel free to crack a joke.
• I already have 3 prepared. I won't share them here though.
• It's going to be amazing starting all of my sentences with 'well, my therapist says'
• Actually, I know how this will end.
• Slow sessions, followed by a slow death.
• I don't even know whey I'm doing this.
• Tried it once, didn't work.
• Second time's the charm?
• Isn't my bundle of enthusiasm just kickass?
• I probably shouldn't pretend I give zero fucks
• Because if I gave zero fucks I wouldn't be trying
• And that's my key word of the year.
• Barf. I have a key word.

Why is it so hard for me to admit I want to be okay. First question I plan on asking. I'm legit thinking of writing down all the things I want to discuss so that my thoughts are organized and not on a cocaine spree. I want to sound cohesive and put together, but then I would be lying to my new therapist friend. 

My thoughts are never cohesive, I never make sense. I break sentences apart, and I can talk about the same thing for years. Just look at the content of this blog. So maybe I won't make a list. Maybe I'll just kick down her door and start in on chapter 1. My childhood. You already know she'll be asking for it. And I already know which prescriptions are awaiting me.

Look, dilemmas already & I haven't even been into her office yet. Fabulous.