With that words, my friend turned around and walked out of the room. It was the countless discussion that she's tried having with me about my latest furious mood swing. I could see that she was tired of trying to reason with me and getting behind the true story. She stopped again halfway. Didn't turn around. "I get that you don't want to let me into your head. I get it more than you think, but just don't tell me that you don't need me. You need me more than you think."
Yes. I'm am indeed afraid of letting people into my head. It's the thing I fear the most, after death, that somebody is going to finally figure me out and peg me to the stereotype in life that I fit with. My whole life I have been walking around with the voice in my head, constantly talking to my conscience. When I told my friend that she doesn't get the chance to play therapist with me, I was more afraid of blabbing out everything in once complete sentence.
What did I end up saying after she declared she needed me: "My mother and father have done more damage than good to me... I might sound like a spoilt brat or a ungratefull son, but the truth is that you are looking at somebody who's kept quiet about their secrets for long enough, so much that it has been causing issues that you'll never understand. I say again. You don't get to play therapist right now."]
I managed to say what I wanted and kept the secrets intact at the same time. She stood... still. The whispered: "You know how they say the truth will set you free. You should try it sometime."
