Latest Psychotherapy Articles
I once saw a therapist who said my tattoos are an ugly way of trying to make myself special, and that they remind him of the iron stamps put on cows. While I was about to burst into tears, I stood up, kept myself composed, told him he’s an embarrassment to his profession and elegantly left.
Last night I went over to Park Slope to visit Avis. She and I sat in the kitchen, sharing an omelet and Perrier water, and talked for hours, just as we did in the old days. Justin, her roommate, joined us later; he’s a very sweet guy. We told each other about our homosexual feelings.