therapy

my therapy my therapy
this is my new therapy the way it started long ago expressing hopes and dreams for the future. scribbled down a few minutes before i run out the door. therapy therapy, i feel everything is read into i feel everything is not said as clearly as possible, that things aren't as cut and dry as they seem.
he spoke to my mother yesterday, and my aunt was his first sale at the store. we are connected divinely to through the universe, but still stopped. hope. dead. i can't push it away, but they can push me away. "she's an old soul, don't you think?" and "take care of my daughter" when she can't take care of me at all.
who will take care of me? i feel myself slowly slipping away back into the ether, but i am not afraid so much anymore... a promise is a promise and december is coming slow, some reason, i can't wait for december. a world away, to be kept company by icicles and the sound of crashing waves. why did i ever leave there, there where it was always december and i was always safe?
i want that feeling back, the full emptiness that surged in the cold beneath layers of soft cloth. i want to be held tightly like a precious thing, a delicate thing. i want it all to quiet down.