Dear Dr. Marcia Fieldstone,
I'm barking up trees right now that don't have cats, birds or any kind of living mammal chilling in the branches. In other words I feel like I'm running around in weird circles and I don't know what to do.
I told my therapist dude that I was frustrated with my lack of acting gigs. How I moved away from the Midwest (the land where you marry straight out of college and start squirting out children) so that I could pursue my dream...except I haven't even gotten close to that damn thing and I'm not married and don't have crumb snatchers so I'm basically fucked. (pardon my language, doc.)
My therapist asked if I was still seeing the other therapist (AKA "The Angel") because he sensed I was 'sensitive' and needed to get that taken care of. No shat Sherlock! Me?! Sensitive! I'm the QUEEN of sensitivity! I could cry from just imagining someone's mad at me. That aside, what the heck does being sensitive have anything to do with therapy?
#1 thing that has me in a funk.
Jersey just told me he's more than likely going home to spend time with his family...for like a month. He did this last year and it just about killed a girl. You can't really have an opinion about someone wanting to spend time with their family, though... I just have to prepare myself for a month of lonely.
#3 is a bee-otch. Money. Who doesn't worry about money?! Well it seems like all the folks around me don't because I'm the only one wondering what's more important; gas or groceries. What to do with your last $20...and who in the heck MY AGE only has $20 in the bank?! Did I share too much Dr. Marcia? Ize be poor...Ize be mighty po.
Those are my three deadly dooms...they're reeking havoc on my sanity for sure. Looking for a bone. A silver lining...a trip to Seattle so I can be sleepless instead of worrisome. Maybe an acting gig which would eliminate two of my bad boys with one awesome stone.