I’m away next week, so I’ll see you the following Friday, my therapist says.
Even the moon can see the fake of my smile and I hope my phone camera pixels add their own sincerity as I nod and say okay.
I question my progress, my growth, that I am afraid of a week on my own.
Am I an addict? A dependent? This cannot be a unique experience but I’m too adrift to examine further.
Perhaps I am supposed to be a DBT lifer.