That's What You Shrink

Tomorrow, I meet my therapist.
Or 'Bereavement Counsellor'.
He'd better be attractive.
I'm so sick of homely, qualified professionals everywhere I go.
I'm unsure of his credentials, but I'll get back to you on that.
I'll also grab a couple of photos of his office.
See what kind of dirt we can dig up on this guy.

Oh, I've been okay. How about you?
You know you're fucked up emotionally when you feel moved by the lyrics of Total Eclipse of the Heart.
That song should only ever make you feel like you deserve to be even drunker than you already are.
I'm sure that's how Bonnie Tyler looks at it.

We're not giving ferns enough credit.
The flora, that is; not women named Fern.

I'm sad, sure.
But it's the days when I feel nothing in particular that I worry about.

Just how much have our parents damaged us?

I haven't driven enough sports cars.

How much better is Lena Dunham's writing than my own, really?
Considerably, as it turns out.
Still though, mine's not bad.

Sometimes, when I was feeling down, I'd ask her to "tell me I'm good."
And she always did.
I am good.
You're all good, too.

...Oh fuck it, we'll put in the music video for good measure.