Real Time Disaster Footage

Well, what a perfect set-up, what a perfect set of cheap narrative tricks, so obvious I couldn't have even made it up, for fear of offending my own sensibility. First of all it's pouring like a German barmaid out here, gray, freezing, sheets comin' at you from the sides, and im sitting in my car, and I'm sitting in my throat, and I'm watching myself and I'm looking out and each layer is so heavy with tears I can't see outside and I can't see past this day and I can't see past my face. I couldn't sleep again last night. But now, now I'm sitting in my car, Julian gave me the wrong appointment time and I have to come back in 2 hours, he asked if I wanted to sit for a minute, he was friendly, he said he wanted to ask me something but didn't want to be cut off and it's all over now, baby blue. I don't even want to go back there, I know how it will go, so clinical and humiliating, maybe an apology for not "addressing it sooner when I felt perhaps I should have" and humiliation and I don't know if I'll be able to hold it together, but I will, I will, and I'll go back, and I'll sit through it, and I'll fucking figure it out. I always do. I don't even like him, and his boring wife, and his sleazy job, and his antitherapy that's left me a mess, suck it Julian Darcy, thanks for everything, that's for the inspiration for some songs that I'm gonna hate now, and this blog that is devoid of point now, and what will I do with all this shit and all these months wasted in rose-colored glasses on a flight of fancy when I could have been DOING SOMETHING, like being OUT THERE in the cold, miserable world, alone, cold and miserable and alone but with no illusions. Cuz that's life and that's how it's gotta be and I'm never gonna let another privileged, blessed, posh PSYCHO therapist lie to my face and tell me otherwise.