Therapy seemed like bullshit to you.

You were already violently self aware. You knew what therapy entailed—and how people could benefit from it.

‘Everyone needs therapy!’ You’d remind people—even yourself, even though when it came to you and your wellbeing, this wasn’t the first thing on your mind. Even though, you fucking needed it.

You were far too stubborn to admit it, though.

That stubbornness could only go so far—look at you, now. At your first therapy appointment.

It was different than what you would’ve imagined; the waiting area was comfortable as you waited to be called in. There was no typical overstimulation of sterile hospital lights and no anxiety bubbling up your throat. This was a good start, wasn’t it?

“Miss?”

Your head peered up from your phone, to settle on the woman behind the front desk who was all smiles and large glasses, “Mr. Riley is ready for you now, whenever you are.”

You gave a polite head nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Here goes nothing, right?