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#psychologist
“Do you ever have thoughts of self harm?” ‘…’ ‘No.’ [You feel your sins crawling down your back] [Such a good liar, they murmur into your hair] ‘…I mean not really.’ [You grip your leg where the blade already left] [Stay silent, they hum, you shameful child] “Have you ever done it before?” ‘I… have a habit of hand biting when I’m distressed.’ [Yes, they praise, you just need to distract] [Direct the conversation to safer grounds] “Have you had any thoughts of committing suicide?” ‘No.’ [Just the wish to disappear to nothing] [Just the wish to be forgotten] “Have you made any plans?”
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Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 5:29 AM UTC
Doctors Appointment
how do you feel the silence weighs heavy between us gone the friendly how ya doin’ for which I had the stock I’m fine how are you now we’ve brought real emotion now we’ve opened a door I really haven’t a clue I’m a little sad because winter makes me feel that way among the trees shedding leaves something dies in me there is the loneliness of Christmas from when parents wanted the cuckoo to leave the nest I’m happy when the sun shines casting smiles among the shadows I’m afraid I’ll live this day with the disappointment of any other little achieved in too short a time how am I I feel like a hurricane in a tunnel a fall on a spiral stairway a dark stain on a white carpet an accident in a car park a raindrop on the windshield of a moving car, an unseen shooting star a baby feeling hunger for the first time I feel like I’m going to burst into tears for no apparent reason I feel the money for this hour was wasted I’m leaving going nowhere
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Dec 6, 2022
Dec 6, 2022 at 3:26 PM UTC
conversation with a psychologist
A poem a day, Keeps the psychiatrists away.
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May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 7:31 AM UTC
Poems.
I am the pretender You must precensor When I'm an inventor Who can't get centered I'm the apologist You're the psychologist We have a suitable deal You provide an even keel And cook delicious meals And let my fingers feel But you do so much more Going deeper than the shore You make a difference By insistence I see your footprints In the distance They lead me to progress My mind cannot process Those things I can't fathom You effortlessly grab them You were my bastion of behavior I thought you were my savior You're more like Charles Xavier Controlling my mind To keep me blind By taking my vision When you make your incision And put me in prison You're Sigmund Freud On steroids You fill my void Then get annoyed You cured me of my madness Yet instilled sadness When I got addicted to your healing But then heard your tires peeling After all your analysis You deemed me talentless You used to be my example of what to be Now you're my example of what to flee You made me hate the number three While running my car into a tree Which made me scream ouch My ejection from your couch So I hide in my palace And drink from a chalice Filled with mindless malice While holding my phallus But I learned my lesson One last confession Someone that can calm my brain Can also leave a permanent stain
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Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
Psychologist
Sadness isn’t a sickness but I think I’m coming down. Doctor, doctor I no longer want to be around. All that I seem to do is constantly breakdown. Doctor, doctor I think it’s time for me to go. Cancel my next appointment, I won’t be here tomorrow. Doctor, doctor you say that sadness is in fact a sickness, yet you aren’t advising me on how to fix this.
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
Sick
I imagine a therapist office as they are lavished in on tv shows and they're not really like that; instead of a cozy dimly lit office it's a white wall maze. As my doctors are not private ones and they surely disclose all about me to the insurance company. I can't help, but twiddle my thumbs and wonder about the cries for help that linger on these paisley painted dry walls-- snickered with inpersonal portraits of strangers; that probably wish they hung in one of those elegant, brash, and luxurious offices on tv. Or maybe instead the paintings longingly wish to be dead as well-- instead of being in this subservient storehouse that is standing in for an therapist office. Getting up from another stand-in this rash beast of dull coloured dust; calling it a chair would insinuate people are supposed to sit there, but I assume it's true purpose is for the ill-ful to find something uglier than life itself.   Leaving through another betrayal that existence couldn't be more lame is a doorway with the most faux of all possible doors; it's screaming "nobody ever cut down a tree to make this". Slipping past another door (eye role) I come to be in the same room, but this space is two faultering steps to the left.   And instead of dust everywhere it's a mobbish moss melancholy that distastefully lingers in my personal office's air.
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Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
A Psychologist Needs a Psychologist
He is safe. He is happiness. He is everything. He takes away the anxiety. He takes away the hurt. He takes away the pain. He makes you love yourself. He makes you feel like you aren’t alone. He keeps away the nightmares. He holds you. He tells you all the things you need to hear. He pushes you to be a better person. *Without him you are afraid. Without him you are unbearably sad. Without him you are nothing. Without him you are anxious and bed ridden. Without him you are ridden with depression. Without him you are in constant psychological pain. Without him you hate yourself. Without him you are alone and always will be. Without him you have nightmares and sleep paralysis that never seem to end. Without him you are cold. Without him you are no longer pretty- you are no longer anyone’s favourite person; you are no longer loved. Without him you’re an awful person and no one wants to be around you.* He is security. He is life. He is air. He makes you do things you never thought you could. You aren’t afraid to be with him. He makes the voices go away. He makes the paranoid feelings less intense. You can touch him without feeling like you’re having a heart attack. You can kiss him without feeling like you’re going to faint. You can lay with him and not feel like something bad is going to happen. *Without him you are lost. Without him you want to die- there’s nothing keeping you here but him. Without him you can’t breathe; you feel like you’re drowning- suffocating, always. You’ve always been afraid of anyone with romantic feelings towards you. You’re always afraid of people touching you or kissing you or anything that relates to intimacy- but you’ve never felt that with him. There have never been heart palpitations. There have never been anxiety ridden shakes and hot flashes. You’ve never felt faint around him. You crave his kisses- you want him to hold you. Without him you’re afraid of everyone and everything. You never leave the house. You never go see friends. You’re too scared to live your life- you’re too afraid to die. You barely exist.* ***But worst of all- without him, you’re left alone to have to deal with me. Without him, us voices come back to taunt you and we’ll never go away.***
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Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC
I suffer with "Pathological Loneliness" or so they say, anyway
He is safe. He is happiness. He is everything. He takes away the anxiety. He takes away the hurt. He takes away the pain. He makes you love yourself. He makes you feel like you aren’t alone. He keeps away the nightmares. He holds you. He tells you all the things you need to hear. He pushes you to be a better person. *Without him you are afraid. Without him you are unbearably sad. Without him you are nothing. Without him you are anxious and bed ridden. Without him you are ridden with depression. Without him you are in constant psychological pain. Without him you hate yourself. Without him you are alone and always will be. Without him you have nightmares and sleep paralysis that never seem to end. Without him you are cold. Without him you are no longer pretty- you are no longer anyone’s favourite person; you are no longer loved. Without him you’re an awful person and no one wants to be around you.* He is security. He is life. He is air. He makes you do things you never thought you could. You aren’t afraid to be with him. He makes the voices go away. He makes the paranoid feelings less intense. You can touch him without feeling like you’re having a heart attack. You can kiss him without feeling like you’re going to faint. You can lay with him and not feel like something bad is going to happen. *Without him you are lost. Without him you want to die- there’s nothing keeping you here but him. Without him you can’t breathe; you feel like you’re drowning- suffocating, always. You’ve always been afraid of anyone with romantic feelings towards you. You’re always afraid of people touching you or kissing you or anything that relates to intimacy- but you’ve never felt that with him. There have never been heart palpitations. There have never been anxiety ridden shakes and hot flashes. You’ve never felt faint around him. You crave his kisses- you want him to hold you. Without him you’re afraid of everyone and everything. You never leave the house. You never go see friends. You’re too scared to live your life- you’re too afraid to die. You barely exist.* ***But worst of all- without him, you’re left alone to have to deal with me. Without him, us voices come back to taunt you and we’ll never go away.***
Continue reading...
19
It's hard to tell your friends when you're feeling pretty bad And elaborate on the situations that have made you sad It's even harder to tell my Father just yesterday I felt like dying Yet flawlessly and effortlessly I can tell my Psychologist without trying It's ****** isn't it? That I trust a stranger more than the family I grew up with, lived with, the worst parts of a better me Some days I look around and ask myself if I am proud of What I have achieved and whether or not it is enough Satisfaction from the parts where I know I've done well Disappointment at the aspects that will **** me straight to Hell So I question life, I wield a knife, makes me so depressed I self-harm So now you know why I bear the scars, up and down my arm
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Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
This Is My Life as of Late
It went like this: Wouldn't talk, not even about my problems There were so many options to help me solve them But I missed them all, blinded by hurt A hurt I didn't welcome, a hurt I didn't deserve Bullied by kids with bigger problems than mine So I came up with my own helpful design I'd cause my own pain, over and over again Because, after all, no pain no gain But all I gained was a real bad habit A real bad habit that stopped me feeling like **** So I thought it was good, I mean cuts heal But they heal into scars, not part of the deal I just wanted something I could handle But now, unfortunately, they became visible Questions, questions, from family and friends I though, Oh God, does it never end? And guess what? I still said nothing Now look at me Three hundred turns of the cycle later Now I'mma see a psych and be a fixed ******
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May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 6:01 AM UTC
Vicious Cycle
A grey and rainy day A day to wash away the pain Clean the slate before fate decides The pain is here to stay A person to specialise in fixing my problems When I myself have trouble trying to solve them A psychologist for someone as messed up as me Can they really fix it? Well I guess we'll see I got so much anger Yeah it's balled up deep within Massages don't do **** for me It's deeper than the muscles under my skin It's all up in my mind And a part of my anatomy Can you really fix my anger When it's coded in my chemistry? I'm not too sure But I really hope it works Because if it doesn't I'll probably collapse Either that or go bezerk Down the other alley Is a depression so deep You can almost taste the water when You're drowning in your sleep But asleep or dead I know it's all up in my head Every problem can be solved with time Rather than force the end The problem with me is Whilst I can write Talking to others about my problems Is probably my hardest fight So hopefully I work well With my new psychologist And hopefully she doesn't become An anger antagonist
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May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
Psychologists
"Go see someone to deal with your problems" the doctor says Oh, I didn't realize seeing someone could provide stitches to my wounds That my bleeding heart will heal at the sound of their wisdom That my inner demons will be reassured by thier pen to paper Thank goodness all I have to do is wake up and 'deal with it'
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Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Deal
A needed car ride Don't fear You are the driver Taking her on your road Through the winding bends of your head As she sits next to you in the passenger seat Following your navigation Keeping you from driving off the cliffs © Jl 2016
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Therapy
"And how does that make you feel" she asks, pen poised over clipboard. I want to scream at her, tell her that mere words could never hold the weight of what I feel But instead I stare fiercely into her eyes and say... "how does it make you feel, to know you can't save me?"
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Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 11:19 PM UTC
bleeding emotions
jesse and i used to play games of fairies as children. i still have the drawing book which we gathered "facts" from. her crazy neighbor (with basically ten siblings.Mormons) played the games with us, but she too lived them. we put out "food" for them, ran from evil spirits, used powers to fuel the plot, ran through the trees and down hills, and used leaves, sticks, the weather, and even sounds in the wind to move the story. we grew to dismiss it as child's play (though i can't speak for the girl), but it was real. it was as real as anything, and affected us more than all else. our childhood was a fairy-tale it just didn't get a "happily ever after" in cursive at the bottom of the page. it was magic all the same.
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
Fairies in the Psychiatrists Office
You make it seem as if you dont really want to see me Even though it is your job to do this What in the hell do you want me to do if Im a psychotic depressed teen Im oh so sorry for needing you to do your job Ughh
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
A little rant
Im a bit angry you re-scheduled our session but they need your help more than i do right? so its fine. ive been coping with this for a long time so waiting a few more days to see you won't **** me right? im still a bit angry though cause i was in the talking mood-now i have no one to talk to. ive been building up my confidence and strength all week to tell you every thing that comes to mind, I wasnt going to hold back on anything... but they need your help more than I do right? So its fine i'll just sit on the side line till its my turn to play..
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
Re-schedule