It feels unreal but at the same time too real
That you sit before me today
We are on a picnic blanket in my backyard
There is a book between us
And though I know what I want to say
Though I’ve practiced my speech countless times for months
I can’t stop the sudden flow of tears
I can’t control my shaky voice
When you ask me, “What would you like to start with?”
I try to stay calm as I tell you the truth
My mistake was not my words
But how I said them instead
Through raw anger and hostility
That had built up over five years
I see you reach for the book
And open it to a random page
You ask me if I’ve ever noticed the portal between the pages
You tell me to do something new
You say “Read a book you’ve never read,
Try an activity you’ve never done.”
I shake my head and nearly shout,
“That is not what this meeting is about!
Why the hell are you dodging the situation?”
You shake your head and say, “You’re right,
Tell me what you want to say.”
I let it all out, I spill my feelings
But you sit there calmly
Not comforting me
Not saying a word
You’re not even surprised when I admit to medication and therapy
And I can’t help but wonder if you even care
So there I sit, photo album in my lap
With waterfalls cascading down my face
You dodge another subject and I’ve had enough
I stand and stare at you in disbelief
And find a lack of care in your eyes
I shake my head and whisper, “Get out,
I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
You follow me as I walk away
You try to hug me goodbye
And I struggle before giving up and breaking down in your arms
Then I suddenly wake up
And hope to the gods that our real one-on-one doesn’t end like the one in my dreams