A Therapy Session
I went to therapy today — I was told I needed to.
Trauma, anger, and disorders galore.
Reluctant to enter — but I went through.
I knocked on the door — tap, tap, tap.
No answer.
I peeked inside and saw
a frazzled man taking a nap.
I cleared my throat — ahem, ahem — “May I come in?”
A chair creaked.
Someone muttered,
“A million dollars! A million dollars! Yes — that’s how much you win.”
I gave up and walked in — because now I was intrigued.
Looks like my therapist was dreaming in between.
With half-opened eyes, he looked at me and said,
“Ah yes — Ms. Curio, come in, come in.”
A few pleasantries later, I’m sitting across from him.
He folds his hands and says, “Go on, tell me. I’m listening.”
I say, “I don’t know where to begin — but of late, I’ve been feeling
angry and weary, and my head is in a spin.”
He says nothing.
But I hear him aloud, taking notes —
“Spinning head… spinning top… put it on my palm,
don’t let it stop.”
I interject — “Excuse me? Are you talking to me?”
He says, “No, no… just word-associating.
Pray, go on.”
“Well… okay,” I say. “So this started a few days ago,
while I was at work.
Someone yelled at me — and I lost all control.
I said nothing, but I smacked him twice to shut his lies.
With my latest iPhone.”
“Oh no,” he says. “Is it okay?”
I ask, “It or he? The man or the phone?”
“The phone, of course,” he says. “I heard it costs an arm and a leg.”
“Yes, my phone is okay — but the man is not.”
“Who is not?”
“The man I smacked, doctor.”
“Ah,” he says. “That guy who fought?”
“Yes — him. And that is why I’m here.
I was told I have anger issues — I was sent to your care.”
The therapist says, “Alright then — tell me, how you felt right before you smacked him?”
“I was raging, Doctor. My blood was boiling… curdling.
And then I think my mind went blank.
Next thing I know — I found myself on my colleague’s lap.”
He pauses, looks up from his notebook, and asks,
“Well… what were you doing there?”
“Where?”
“On your colleague’s lap.”
“I… I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe I fell. Maybe I just… dropped down there.”
I look at the clock.
It’s half past ten — I’ve been here twenty minutes.
I think — this isn’t helping much.
But he continues and asks me to go on.
“So what should I do, Doctor?
To stop me from smacking other men too?”
He says, “Men do that — and I agree with you.
If someone yelled at me, I might do it too.
But you need a solution, and it must be civil.
You have two options — take a vacation, or try my new pill.”
Since this is my first time,
I don’t know what to think.
I ask, “Can we do both?”
He says, “Sure — why the hell not.”
I feel relieved and think, Okay… this was really simple.
The doctor’s pretty cool too.
All he recommends is a vacation — and a new pill.
The pill is taken, the vacation is set.
I feel calm and happy and absolutely ggggggg-reeeeat!
There are butterflies around me, leaving their cocoon —
I heard you can’t help them,
or they fall and feel like a buffoon.
My cat has a Hawaiian dress,
and his hula-hooping is honestly the best.
I try to do a few, but can’t match him —
I wobble, I drop it… I simply can’t do.
And boom — just like that — I’m off to Peru.
The land of llamas and Machu Picchu.
And I have my own llama
Who looks like my therapist — in therapy.
He’s spitting on tourists,
and cursing at them for eternity.
I ask my llama — “What’s bothering you? Tell me, open up…”
He says — “These people who come to meet me…
They give these fake smiles for a photo-op.
“That one there is running away from her ex.
She wants to post these pictures — to feel better, to flex.”
“Yeah,” I say, “as she should — she has muscles to flaunt.
She looks terribly good.”
But the llama continues, not hearing me at all.
He points at another —
“That one there is actually a millionaire…
He came here to escape decisions all day,
but now he cannot decide whether to smile, frown,
or stay.”
“Well — that is their problem. What’s that got to do with you?”
He looks me straight in the eye.
“Don’t you see, Curio?
I may look like a llama — but I am your therapist from before.
I took that pill and came to Peru,
to forget my troubles too.
“But here I am, climbing up and down these trails,
trying to make these people happy again,
and not let them go off their rails.”
My mind is spinning again,
and I’m looking at my phone.
Maybe one more smack to stop this track,
then I’ll fly back home on my drone.
So smack, smack, smack —
I do what I did before.
And now I see the receptionist nudging me —
“Ms. Curio, the Doctor has been waiting.
Please follow me through this door.”
– FIN
-Curio Athena
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