What I Wish I could Tell a Therapist

I know therapy would help,

It would unburden me

of all my dark thoughts and self-critiques.

But then I would have to kill them.

It’s nothing against the therapist—

I know they have a code.

I am the keeper of my own secrets.

No one can use your secrets against you

if you never share them.

I would like to tell my therapist

about my relationship with my mother

and how I desperately don’t want it to turn

into the one she has with her own.

I would talk about my lack of connection to religion,

and how I’m baffled by my extended family’s faith;

and I believe in a higher power that answered to no name—

a quiet watcher over life.

I’d tell my therapist how I have yet to find a full-time job,

and how companies don’t care if you have a degree—

they want people with years of experience,

but I can’t get years of experience

without a degree first.

It’s a double-edged sword if I ever saw one.

My therapist would not judge.

They would not give me homework.

They’d let me express what I can’t to my parents—

because if I did, they’d only worry about me,

which is the last thing I want.

Having a therapist would be nice,

but then I’d have to kill them

Because letting someone else know me that well is dangerous.