My First Psychologist Visit 

The screen lit up

Before I was ready

My own face in the corner

Too close

Too honest

A mirror I hadn’t asked for

Their window appeared

Calm

Steady

Framed by books and soft colors

A space built for breathing

Even through pixels

Take your time they said

And the audio lag

Made the words feel slower

Gentler

As if the delay itself

Was giving me room

I sat there

With my hands off camera

Twisting themselves into knots

The psychologist couldn’t see

But somehow still noticed

I tried to start

Three different sentences

All of them crashed

Into the mute button

I kept forgetting to unmute

So I laughed once

Awkward and thin

And then I told the truth

The version small enough

To fit through a webcam

They listened

Like listening was a skill

You could practice for years

And still never perfect

But they were trying

I felt that

And when the session ended

The call faded to black

With a soft click

Leaving me alone

In a suddenly quiet room

But not the same kind of alone

I’d walked in with

Something had shifted

Not healed

Not solved

But loosened

A knot beginning to breathe